


Resonance: Waves

by Kamari333



Series: Resonances [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aggressive Signs of Affection, Aggressively Protective Older Brothers, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Swapfell, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Alternate Universe - Underlust, Alternate Universe - Underswap, Angst, Bonds, Collars, Dancetale, Dysfunctional Family, Empathy, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Memes, Paranoia, Protective Older Brothers, Smut, The Significance of Collars in Fell-verse culture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-18 13:16:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11291439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamari333/pseuds/Kamari333
Summary: Where I'll be posting events that take place during the storyResonance.Which is Undertale AU Garbage.If you haven't read the original story, none of this will make any sense and have very little impact.





	1. First Rust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a rewrite of a scene from [Chapter 20](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10828317/chapters/24530562), originally written in Underlust!Sans (Lust)'s POV, now in Underfell!Sans (Red)'s POV.

Red took hold of Lust's wrists, pinning them with one hand over Lust's head. Red looked, really looked, at the monster under him, his eye light gliding along the perfect, unmarked bones that the other seemingly refused to cover. But now Red understood why that was: the heat was unbearable. The burning tendrils that ran through his marrow like liquid fire demanded he smash those bones into the floor, to take them, to ravage them, to satisfy himself without conscience or remorse. But Red refused. Red would not be one of those irredeemable things that were not even worthy of being called a monster. Killing, Dusting, that was one thing, but this was another entirely. His limbs felt weak, but he held down Lust as firmly as possible. He had no idea what he was doing, and having the idiot squirm was just going to make it harder.

Lust opened his mouth, as though he could sense Red's hesitance. "If you're not up to it, I'll take it from-" Red bit at his cervical vertebrae, digging the tips of his sharpened teeth between the joints and sliding them along the inside of the rim. Just as Red had wanted, Lust went quiet, what little motions he had been making going still. Red saw the pulse of magic in Lust's eyes, and took a strange satisfaction in being able to wring that kind of response out of him.

"Shut up," Red growled near Lust's acoustic meatus. "If I'mma go through with this, it's gonna be on _MY_ terms." Red twitched, hearing the slight tremble in his own voice. He didn't want to show the strain he was under in his half crazed condition. Lust looked up at him, a glimmer of pity in his eye lights as he nodded. It was all Red could do not to punch him. Red didn't need his pity. He didn't want pity. He wanted respect. And release. _Fuck,_ how he wanted release.

Clicking his teeth, Red considered the problem before him. He didn't have any experience in this matter, other than with himself. He knew, academically, that unless the other was properly... prepped, it was going to hurt like hell. And Lust, like Red, had only 1 HP. If Red hurt him at all, there was a chance he would die. Red couldn't afford that. He had to be careful, he had to make sure Lust was completely ready. The question was, how to do it?

In an instant, the idea came to him. Magic. He'd just stimulate the magic. And Lust had already shown him where to go to affect another skeleton's magic. So, leaning back down, Red carefully dragging the tips of his teeth along Lust's cervical vertebrae. With a gentleness Red had forgotten he possessed, he wore away at the same spot, slowly, patiently. He had to be patient. He couldn't do this fast, or he might hurt the smaller monster, and that would defeat the point. He had to restrain himself, just a little longer. He had to ignore the biting fire inside him, the animalistic urges that demanded he throw caution to the wind and fuck the nearest opening until he passed out from exhaustion. He had to be patient. But _fuck_ if patience wasn't Red's strong suit to begin with. And his magic was stubborn, raging in bursts that made him feel like he was melting from the inside. It took all of Red's willpower not to snap the neck in his jaws. He sank his claws into the wood floor then, using the violence to calm down. _He would not lose._

After a few moments, Red pulled his teeth away, inspecting his work. It didn't look deep, but he didn't want it to. It just had to be deep enough. Experimentally, he summoned his tongue. It was almost damp with the magic that boiled inside him. Good. He pressed it to the spot he had been working on, letting the droplets of liquid fire and electricity slide down the grooves he had painstakingly etched. Within moments, Lust's body spasmed, gasping and shuddering underneath him, keening and crying in the throws of pleasure the experience had wrung from him. Red smirked. _Thats right, he was just that good._

When the smaller skeleton's shaking had gone down, Red hooked his tongue inside one of Lust's transverse foramen, circling the rim. He had to make sure the monster stayed in that state. He felt his body heat, his trembling, the way he leaned into the attention. Red snickered. Lust shivered and whined. "Not so tough now, are ya, pixie stick?" He murmured, feeling a heaviness in his chest, the shadows of a different kind of warmth. Lust shivered again, his breathing coming in faster. His joints were lit, glowing and pulsing in time with the waves of desire that were trying to drag Red under. Red was compelled to lick at them, sliding and swirling his tongue along the vertebrae, tasting the magic that thrummed just under the bone. Lust let out a soft gasping noise.

Between the taste, the heady rush of knowing that _Red had done this, he had been the thing that brought this confident, forward monster down into a dribbling mess_ , and the sudden rush of his own magic, Red had to reel back. He couldn't give in yet. He had to be certain. He had to be gentle. He had 18 ATK for fucks sake _he had to be gentle!!!_ Red dug his claws into the floor, forcing himself to regain control as he felt the wood splinter and fray under his hand.

When he was certain that he had himself pulled back together, Red straddled Lust, yanking his pants down and out of the way. Lust sat up a bit, his face flushed and eyes feverish, reaching for something, but Red didn't pay him much heed as he positioned himself to thrust inside. Lust wrapped his arms around Red's neck, pulling him closer. Red slid inside, unable to choke back a sigh of relief. _It was alright now. He could do it._ Red began thrusting, spearing into Lust with such force it made him topple back to the floor. Red kept jabbing at the condensed magic near Lust's coccyx, making Lust's eye lights roll back and jaw fall open.

Even if the electric buzz of magic-on-magic had not been there, even if the pressure Lust was exerting around him had not been there, Red was certain that that look on Lust's face, and that alone, would have been enough to push him to his blissful end. Red came harder than he ever had in his life. He felt the warmth inside him spill out into the other monster's pelvis, felt himself be emptied (although not all the way), felt his energy drop and the heaviness try to take him down. Red steadied himself on the remains of the floor under Lust, his eyes squeezed shut, fighting for air he knew he didn't strictly need, his hips jerking as he came down from the euphoric high. He leaned down, bracing his skull on the floor between his hand and Lust's skull, trying to pull himself together.

Red knew he wasn't done. That moment had been amazing, better than the rush of new EXP, of a new LV even, but it hadn't been enough. The fire still burned, as hot and painful and needy as ever. What relief he had gained would not last long, he was certain. Red almost started plowing into Lust again, ready to go straight into the next round, but he remembered to hold still. He couldn't risk damaging the weaker monster. He had to make sure he was prepared. He had to be gentle.

Red slid his claws underneath Lust's shirt. He began seeking out all the places he knew he himself liked, using his sharp appendages to poke and tease and prod across Lust's rib cage, aiming for the tiny surfaces wedged between larger structures that he figured Lust himself would have difficulty reaching. Lust squirmed and shivered and whimpered, mewling pathetically under Red's attention. Red expertly alternated between the 'flat' and the 'blade' of his claws, drawing out every possible response from Lust's body in quick succession. _Fuck_ did he love it, seeing, hearing, _feeling_ the skeleton in his arms and hands come undone. The heat in his own body seemed to recede just listening to it. He thought he would come again.

Then, suddenly, Lust took hold of Red's scapula and pulled, rolling them over so Lust was now sitting on top. Red opened his mouth to express his indignation, but before he could utter a word, Lust gripped Red's face firmly and shoved his tongue between his teeth in a passionate kiss. Red bristled. He had never been kissed like that before. Hell, he had never been kissed _ever_. But he liked it. _Fuck_ did he like it. He let his body relax, let his eyes close, and allowed himself to do what came natural. He gripped Lust's bare hips, thumbs hooking down to make wide circles over his ilium. To Red's surprise, Lust began to pump against his member insistently. Red growled, pure and primal, demanding to be satiated, demanding the monster work harder if he was going to be on top. Lust whimpered, the vibration traveling up his tongue and into Red's as they curled around each other, wrapping his arms around Red's neck and leaning deeper into him.

Red tried to hold back, to keep control. Be gentle, _be gentle, damn you!!_ But the desperate grip of the monster on top of him proved to be too much. Red pulled Lust's hips upward and slammed him all the way down onto him, insisting on driving himself into the deepest reaches of the other's magic. Lust screamed into Red's mouth, setting the warmth in Red off again, the liquid fire rushing to his every pore, raising his sensitivity. He groaned into Lust as he bucked with renewed energy and ferocity. He felt Lust bouncing up and down, clinging to him as though he were the only thing holding him to this world. _And Red fucking loved it._

It wasn't just the physical pleasure, which in and of itself would have brought Red to near madness, it was so good. No, it was more than that, bigger than that, deeper than that. Red felt like he was in complete control, like he was the one who made the earth move and the stars shine and time itself flow forward. Red felt wanted, needed, like he could actually _make a fucking difference_ , like what he did _mattered_. And he loved it. He loved it so much he feared he would cry. He didn't even care, in that one blissful moment, that he had allowed the shell on his heart to crack, to open and air out all the damnable emotions he had so carefully repressed. All that mattered right then was that he was, for the first time in he couldn't remember when, genuinely happy.

Red broke the kiss, wrapping his teeth back around Lust's throat and licking again at the spot he had carved into Lust, marking him as his own. Lust came hard, squeezing down on Red like a vice in the process. Red bit down on his clavicle, his claws entwined in the back of his rib cage, gasping as he once more found rapture in his one perfect moment.

Then, just like that, the moment ended. As the two skeletons sank to the floor, panting, both of their magics satiated, Red stubbornly patched that breach in his walls that the little bastard next to him had dared to make. Physically and emotionally spent, he sank into a dreamless sleep that a part of him hoped he would never wake from.

If Red was going to have a last moment, he wanted it to be this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all thought Rust was a cute ship before? You didn't even think about this, THIS, did you?  
> DID YOU?!  
> Nope. But I did.  
> Fuck, the S.S. Rust is never gonna sink I can't let it AAAAAH!!!!


	2. Swapfell View Swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at [Chapter 7](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10828317/chapters/24141813) from the POV of the Swapfell Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per someone's request, a little more Swapfell is now in your life. Hope this is what you wanted. ;)
> 
> NOTE: the name 'Sans' here almost exclusively refers to Razz (Swapfell!Sans)
> 
> ALSO NOTE: When in Razz's POV, Slim is referred to as 'Papyrus' because well thats how Razz sees him. Just FYI

It was Slim's turn to be a tour guide, to be a good host, but he wasn't certain he was capable. He knew that there was a chance his brother wouldn't have the warmest reception, so he brought his new companions out into the snowy reaches of Snowdin. He could see confusion on a couple of faces, although Red took it in stride. Slim noted how a certain level of tension went into the grumpy skeleton's shoulders, how his crimson eye light blazed. He suspected it was the smell in the air, that faint aftertaste of Dust on the wind, which made him instinctively more alert. Slim knew the feeling.

Perhaps he could simply...

Yes. Red could babysit.

Slim stepped back from the group, pulling his hood up higher. "Stay here. I'll go find the supplies." With the briefest look at Red, he snapped his fingers, taking himself to the dump.

* * *

Sans picked himself up off the ground, glaring death into the air, not even seeing the lizard monster that stood with one fist outstretched, eyes glazed over in shock. His chest stung, likely another new crack in one or more of his ribs under his armor, which now sported a deep impression of Alphys's fist, but he ignored it. Turning sharply on the balls of his feet, the short, purple-clad skeleton marched with a purpose.

"Where are you GOING?!" Alphys finally recovered enough to bellow. She was still sweating from the sparring match. She had never been able to land a blow so squarely on her Captain before. Was he sick? Was he injured from an earlier fight? Was that why he had been so moody (for him) lately?

Sans growled. "LEAVING EARLY!" He shouted over his shoulder without looking. He knew in the back of his mind that he was going to have to make up for this later (he would likely have to beat her into submission to get her to drop the subject), but right now he had more important things to worry about. He had felt it, the familiar hum of that distinctive magic in the air, the tug of his own tracer magic that he had so painstakingly carved into leather so long ago. It was _him_. He was back. And more importantly, he was _alive_

See how long that fucking lasted once he got his claws on the bastard!!

Sans started off at a steady pace, but soon found himself running, vaulting over debris and pitfalls and traps that littered the grounds of Waterfall, scrambling around corners so fast he almost lost his balance and fell on his face. It had moved, and better yet, it was closer. That tug he had practically begged to feel on his SOUL every night this past week hummed stronger than ever, leading him like an invisible string into the Garbage Dump.

There he was, rifling through refuse, pocketing a package of cigarette that still had some sticks left in it, that infuriating shit eating grin on his face.

"PAPYRUS!!" Sans heard himself scream.

Papyrus froze. He turned, looking back at Sans with a mixture of terror and delight, like a dog that had been caught doing something he knew was wrong by the owner it adored above all else. And then he was on top of him, taking him by the arm, and Sans felt that nauseating rush that mean his brother had used one of his shortcuts. They were now in Papyrus's bedroom. Papyrus sank to his knees in front of him, trembling with emotion in a way Sans knew he never did with anyone else. For the moment, Sans's fury was forgotten, replaced with an all consuming relief that yes, Papyrus was alive, and he was here.

_And despite everything, despite the world they lived in, despite the horror and the dust and the pain, Papyrus still very clearly loved him._

Sans hooked two fingers around the rim of Papyrus's collar, yanking him into a passionate kiss. He felt the familiar warmth of his magic hum against him as their teeth clacked together, and Sans yanked Papyrus's hood down and out of the way so he could glide the tips of his claws along his skull without hindrance. He let his fingers caress and prod, half to elicit the whine from the other's throat, half to inspect for changes. He was pleased to find that not only were none of the previous cracks worse, but no new ones had developed. Good. The only one who had permission to touch Papyrus was Sans.

Papyrus trembled, his fingers twitching with eagerness. Sans smirked, pulling away. He looked down at his taller brother, who, in this position was level with his shoulders. He knew what Papyrus wanted. He wanted permission to touch. "Go ahead, mutt..." He murmured.

The response was immediate. Papyrus's hands came up to Sans's face, sliding along to the back of his skull as he was showered with little skeletal kisses. While Papyrus lavished him with attention, Sans pulled a leash out of his pocket and hooked it around the collar, clicking it back onto itself, securing it into place softly. He felt Papyrus's hands fondle the spines of his cervical as he used his tongue to inspect the lines of his jaw. Sans allowed himself to hum with approval at the attention, wrapping the end of the leash around his hand to get a better grip.

Papyrus moved his tongue down to the joints of Sans's neck, his hands sliding down to unhook the straps that secured Sans's armor in place. He allowed it, letting his free hand slide under the orange sweater that obscured his view of the bones he wanted to touch. His hands fumbled blindly, but with a sense of purpose and experience, until he took hold of Papyrus's sacrum and began to massage it. Papyrus groaned into his neck, the warmth from his body growing more intense, his hands working more urgently at the straps until the armor was loosened enough to be pulled off. Sans backed away a step, taking his hand from the bone that had responded so favorably to his touch, which elicited another whimper. Papyrus carefully, reverently, pulled Sans's battle body off, Sans dropping his hold on the leash temporarily to assist in the effort.

Papyrus set the armor to the side, sliding the thin muscle shirt still clinging to Sans out of his way as he inspected Sans's rib cage. He growled upon finding the three new cracks in Sans's third and fourth ribs, tenderly licking them as he applied soothing waves of healing magic. Sans began to purr, bracing himself on Papyrus's shoulders for support. Papyrus continued licking at the now tender spot, but his hands resumed their adventures, one scratching carefully at Sans's clavicle as the other danced up and down his lumbar and thoracic vertebrae. Soon Sans's knees buckled, and he fell into his brother's arms, panting, his body aglow with his magic. Long powerful arms caught and held him, an experience that would have sent Sans into a violent, frenzied panic had it not been for the smell of smoke and syrup embedded in the clothes he now clung to for support.

Papyrus shifted his position, crossing his legs and settling Sans in his lap as he continued his full body inspection with his tongue. Sans snatched at the leash again with one hand, tangling the fingers of the other in Papyrus's ribs through his sweater, pumping his hand in a way he knew would spur his dog onward as he let his head fall back into empty air. One of Papyrus's hands grew dangerously close to his pelvis, so Sans gave a warning yank on the leash, reminding him he didn't yet have permission for that. He chuckled at the whine that reverberated out of the other skeleton, the vibrations traveling though his tongue and into Sans's sternum. Sans heard his own breath hitch, relaxing further, feeling the tension over the passed week drain away under the careful, soothing ministrations of the one person he trusted above all others.

Sans felt the tingling warmth against his legs. Papyrus whimpered lewdly into his neck, his hands still entangled in Sans's ribs. Sans chuckled, reaching down and freeing the orange member from the constraints of the other's pants. He scratched at the tip, making circular motions around the tiny hole. Papyrus's whole body trembled, a low moan escaping. Sans felt a ripple of his previous irritation flare, making him switch modes. He dragged his claws carefully along the length, digging in just enough to not do real damage, but send sizable waves of pain through the connection of magic and body. Papyrus moaned louder, clinging to Sans now for support of his own as his bones rattled. Sans felt the magic in his hands throb, growing in size and stiffness. He pumped it thrice, making the body under him jerk, then dug the claw of his index into the hole at the tip and twisted.

Papyrus's voice rose two octaves, his hands clutching for dear life at the posterior of Sans's ribs, burying his face in the crook between Sans's shoulder and skull. Sans panted, his grin smug. That's right, he was the one in control, and he was the one with a bone to pick. No harm reminding his mutt who was in charge. Putting a little pressure on the leash, Sans continued working the shaft, digging his claws into the ecto-flesh at irregular intervals, diving his finger incrementally deeper inside the hole. He felt the electrifying dampness inside swell to meet him, felt the pulsations radiate faster and harder against his hand, felt his brother shake and squirm, mewling his name into his bones.

 _FUCK_ was this hot! _FUCK_ he missed this! He missed HIM! _FUCKING STARS_ he can't take it anymore!

"Wreck me, you useless mongrel..!" Sans growled low, directly against Papyrus's skull.

Those was the last coherent words Sans was capable of speaking for the next few hours.

* * *

Slim forced himself to breath easier. His body felt light and heavy at the same time, and he didn't want to move. He knew he was forgetting something important, but with his brother, his lover, his Lord, curled up in his arms, he couldn't have cared less if he tried.

Slim had expected to be yelled at, hit, punished, for being gone so long without word or warning. He had expected his brother to scream at him, to vent his frustration and fear in a substantial way. He had expected to be sporting a new crack somewhere. He had not expected such a warm welcome home. Sans must have been even more upset than he had calculated. Slim tightened his hold around his brother's chest, a tightness in his SOUL. He didn't like the idea of Sans being so upset.

Sans shifted against him, pressing his nasal cavity harder against Slim's jacket, his chest heaving in a way that let Slim know he was focusing on smell. Slim felt his magic flood his maxilla: he loved it when Sans did that. He loved the look on the smaller skeleton's face even more; peaceful, satisfied, devoid of the stress that he usually carried, his eye sockets almost completely obscured by the lids, the faintest blush of a glow dusting his cheekbones. Slim brought a hand over, stroking his knuckles along the fissures that ran across his brother's skull, smoothing out the rough edges a little more, feeling the loose granules fall away at his gentle touch.

Sans stirred, blinking drowsily. "My armor, mutt..." He mumbled sleepily, letting go of the leash as he rubbed his eyes. Slim sighed, pressing his frontal bone to Sans's briefly, before making himself get up. His room was a mess to start with, so the signs of their recent activity were largely obscured. Still, he snatched up a towel and brought it back over along with the armor. After cleaning up the residue from Sans's bones, Slim punched out the dent in the armor and slid it back over him, fastening it securely. He then pulled Sans back into his chest, purring contentedly.

Then he felt the sting of the slap across his face. Ah. There it was. There was the anger.

"WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!" Sans snarled, fully awake.

"I was..." Slim faltered. He wasn't sure how to begin explaining what had transpired.

"I SEND YOU OUT ON A SIMPLE ERRAND AND YOU DISAPPEAR OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH!!" Sans punched him, making Slim's ribs strain.

"There were technical difficulties... My shortcut malfunctioned and I ended up in an alternate reality." Slim said through gritted teeth. It hadn't really hurt, but it helped to pacify his brother if he pretended.

"ALTERNATE REALITY?! DON'T FUCKING LIE TO ME!!"

"It is the truth, M'Lord," Slim replied, looking up as Sans stood to his full height. "I ended up in an alternate reality, along with a few others who-"

Slim felt himself lifted into the air and smashed into the floor wall.

"BULLSHIT!" Sans snarled, trembling with his rage as the pulse of BLUE magic surged around his hand. "STUCK MY ASS! YOU WERE JUST GOOFING OFF!! YOU RAN AWAY FROM YOUR DUTIES!! FROM-" he couldn't finish the sentence, his voice tapering off as it lost substance. Sans really was upset now. He knew Slim, his Papyrus, intimately well. He knew he was capable of doing unbelievable feats of magic, and that his control was on par with his own. He would believe that Slim's magic had malfunctioned about as soon as he would believe that his own would disobey him. In San's mind, the only logical conclusion was that Slim had every intention of leaving him behind, alone. Even if that went against every iota of evidence that the last few hours had presented. After all, Slim was a master at faking his emotions, of making lies sound like truth and truth sound like lies. He could easily fake the necessary motions to make Sans believe he was loved.

Sans _knew_ Papyrus, _knew_ what he was capable of, but had only _believed_ that his brother would never lie to him.

Slim went cold. He scrambled to try and assuage his brother's fears. "NO! No, it's true! I took the shortcut to Muffet's to grab us dinner but I ended up at a place called Gr-" Slim was cut off as he was smashed into the wall by the window, shattering the glass with the sheer force of the impact.

"I SAID STOP LYING TO ME!" Sans shouted at him. He was across the room in a flash, snatching hold of the leash and pulling it tight as he kicked Slim into a sitting position and smashed one of his boots into his chest. The heal dug painfully into Slim's sternum, and he didn't have to pretend much when his voice got away from him.

Slim fought to keep his panic down. If he panicked, it would only reinforce his brother's worry. He had to find the right words to reach him. "I never meant to leave, and ever since I've been trying to come home, I swear. We've been working on-"

"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOUR EXCUSES!" Sans snarled, digging the heal deeper, grinding it into the bone with crunch. A red stain began to form under his sole, spreading across Slim's orange sweater.

Slim let out a whimper that had more to do with his distress than the pain that was already going numb. "M'Lord... I swear. I didn't run away. I would never-"

Sans backhanded him, hard enough to dislocate his jaw. Slim went rigid, fighting back the urge to clutch at his mandible. His hearing went fuzzy as the pain flooded his senses. Fuck did he hate that -- his jaw was his one real weakness. He knew he had screamed, but he couldn't tell how loud. His vision was blurry, but Slim could still make out his brother's face. Sans ground his teeth in irritation, but there was a flash of guilt and regret in his eye lights. He knew he had gone a little too far.

Slim felt the firm but gentle claw of his brother swiftly shoved his jaw back into place. He heard himself whimper, fighting back tears as he shifted his jaw incrementally to get it back into a comfortable place.

"I said I didn't want to hear your excuses!" Sans snapped, his voice lower, almost apologetic by his standard. When Slim didn't reply, Sans yanked his heel out of Slim's sternum roughly, and slammed down on Slim's femur. The sound of bone snapping clean in half rang out, and a pool of blood formed underneath Sans's foot, staining the floor red. Slim focused on the burn in his leg, and the pounding in his chest, using it as a grounder as he eased himself out of his pain-induced stupid and worked his mouth open. His brother was so great, he always knew what he needed without being told.

As the haze in his vision faded, Slim saw the glow of magic from the doorway: there was Stretch, clutching at the doorway for dear life, looking like he was going to throw up, his eyes tiny orange pin pricks jittering in horror; and Comic, whose eye blazed cyan with indignation and rage, his magic crackling around him as he stood unnaturally still.

Sans saw Slim's gaze shifting away. He grabbed his face roughly and wretched it back into place. "Don't look away from me, mutt. You look at me when I'm talking to you." His voice was still soft, but the edge of annoyance was back.

Comic's eye went bright blue. Slim felt time slow down for him as he realized what was happening. Faster than he'd moved in ages, Slim raised his hand and shoved as much power behind a defensive wall of bones as he could manage. His bones and Comic's clashed, the noise deafening. When the smoke cleared, Sans was unharmed.

Slim held his position on the floor, even as he wanted to jump up and strangle the presumptuous bastard who would dare lay a hand on his brother. He fought hard to keep his voice even, to not scream with animalistic fury, to not indulge the primal urges that demanded he exact revenge for the slight to his Lord.

"I thought I said to wait..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Now you know what took Slim three hours >;)
> 
> ~ Yeah Razz is pretty insecure under all that pretentiousness
> 
> ~ Razz knows his brother better than anyone, good and bad
> 
> ~ Foncest is best -cest, and Swapfellcest is best fontcest :3
> 
> This was fun to do I am so officially taking requests for POV switch scenes lol


	3. CH 36 ALT POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate POV for the first part of [Chapter 36: When the World Shifts (Pt 2)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10828317/chapters/25489311).  
> Seen from Swapfell!Papyrus (Slim)'s prospective.

Slim was the first to come out of the shock. He walked over to where Stretch and Chara had stood, picking up the cigarette butt that Stretch had dropped right before he disappeared. He put out the embers on his hand, his usual lazy grin turned into a thoughtful frown. Well, that proved it, then: shortcuts were definitely a power derived from DETERMINATION. Moreover, with enough DT, there were no boundaries, even between universes.

How terrifying, to think that a single human could have as much, if not more, DETERMINATION than the six of them combined. Most monsters would melt from half as much.

"I TOLD you guys we should have let it die!" Dance announced to the room.

"We heard ya th' last five times, jackass!" Red snapped. There was a waver in his red eyelight, a vibrato in his voice, a tension in his posture, that told Slim he was worried. And probably mad at himself for being worried.

"I didn't know humans could do that..." Lust whispered, wringing his hands, which still had a few traces of the human's blood on them.

"Calm down," Comic said, trying to keep his own worry at bay. "He's probably fine."

"Probably," Dance parroted. " _Probably_ fine, out only stars know where, with a _human_ who can do _magic_. Yeah, he's _probably_ fine!"

Looks were exchanged.

Lust opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again, thinking better of it. Slim went back to his spot against the wall, lighting a new cigarette. This complicated matters, and everyone knew it. With one man missing, there was no guarantee they would be able to transverse the multiverse, meaning if the machine really was malfunctioning, as Red theorized, they had infinitely fewer opportunities to find the necessary parts to fix it. However, given recent events, Slim found Red's theory held less water than he originally thought. The most logical explanation was that the human, who could use shortcuts just like them, had done so after the machine had been turned on, and put too much power behind it. Given the state they were in, they probably didn't have a clear picture of their destination, only a general idea, which would have been acceptable under normal circumstances, but dangerous with the machine active...

Slim felt his phone vibrate, luring him from his musings. Finding his cigarette was no more than a tiny butt (how long had he been spacing out?), he put out the embers and stuffed it in his pocket as he pulled it the phone. There was a notification for a group chat invitation. He clicked it.

> GROUP CHAT  
>  **Dad Meme:** Hey. 

Slim felt his smile return. Stretch was alive! He distantly heard everyone else clicking on their phones, racing to contact him. He did the same.

> GROUP CHAT  
>  **Chuckles:** Where are you?!  
>  **Me:** u alive.  
>  **Drug Buddy:** dumbass  
>  **Bootycall:** OMG yur okay!  
>  **Salt:** you hurt?  
>  **Dad Meme:** I'm fine. Just hitched a ride with Chara  
>  **Dad Meme:** Turn on the machine. I'll come right back. 

Slim looked over at the machine. Now that it was said, it seemed like the obvious answer. If the machine was on, Stretch could just take his own shortcut back. Or even home.

Red was the first to the machine. He swiped at the on switch and brought it down fast.

There was the sound of the machine swelling to life. Then a buzz, and a zap, and a small explosion. The lights on the machine flashed once, twice, then died. A small tendril of thick black smoke curled up from the bottom of the machine, where the power box was fixed in place.

Silence prevailed.

As Dance turned back to his phone, his face dark, Rus spoke up. "I DON'T THINK THE DOOHICKEY IS FEELING VERY WELL..."

Slim felt his phone vibrate, signaling activity in the group chat.

> GROUP CHAT  
>  **Salt:** Can't. Red broke it 

Red saw it too, and glared daggers at Dance from across the room. "FUCK YOU I DID NOT!"

"Yes you did!" Dance shouted back.

"YER TH' ONE WHO INSTALLED TH' FUCKIN' SURGE PROTECTER!! AN' LOOK WHAT FUCKIN' BROKE!!" Red indicated the still smoking box with a violent wave of one claw.

"YOU'RE the one who turned it on too quickly! So this is all on YOU!"

"How th' FUCK can ya turn a machine on TOO QUICKLY?! That only makes sense if ya know yer fuckin' surge protector was a fuckin' piece o' shit t' start with, dumbass!!"

"It worked just fine until YOU touched it, asshole!!!"

As the two skeletons continued to throw insults and blame back and forth, Slim decided to let Stretch know what was happening.

> GROUP CHAT  
>  **Me:** ur missin a gr8 fight rn lol  
>  **Chuckles:** can you get the kid to bring you back?  
>  **Dad Meme:** i'll ask. try to fix it. any parts i should look out for? 

Red and Dance were now within arms length of each other, ruby and sapphire magic sparking between them. Lust dove into the fray, pressing his hand against each of their sternums and pushing them back until he could stand comfortably between them. "FIGHTing isn't going to fix anything."

The two glared at each other over Lust's shoulder, but the magic in the air slowly dissipated, and they backed off to look at their phones again. Lust sighed in relief. Slim didn't blame him. Playing peacekeeper was more of Stretch's thing, and he did it well. Until he returned, the group dynamic would be that much more tense.

> GROUP CHAT  
>  **Drug Buddy:** surge protector busted  
>  **Salt:** need more wires  & metal & circuit boards  
>  **Bootycall:** no rush ;) have fun  & use protection 

Slim was caught off guard by Lust's comment. Had he seen something Slim had missed? He would have to pay closer attention.

In the meantime, they had a machine to try and fix. And maybe some booze to drink, if he could find any. He'd settle for rubbing alcohol at this point.

His brother still hadn't returned his message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Did you SEE what names Slim has everyone recorded under?! I couldn't help myself I had to do it IT HAD TO BE DONE
> 
> ~ Salt wars getting hyped up. Who will win?
> 
> ~ Slim didn't see how crazy Stretch is for the red-eyed human (but clearly Lust did lol)
> 
> ~ Oh but that angty last line... TT~TT


	4. Back At HQ (Pt 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate POV of the timeframe during [Chapter 37: The First Horror](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10828317/chapters/25896258)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Alt POV was kinda necessary for me to write, so i knew wtf was going on back in Comic's universe. Important shit is going down, and it will majorly affect the story.
> 
> However, since it will all be explained later, its not strictly necessary to read... its just easier for me to know wtf is going on.

Lust looked around the room, doing his best to keep his own nervousness down. Dance and Red shot each other dangerous looks from across the room. Slim looked dazed, lost in though and not all together himself. Comic was looking at the machine, his face unreadable as he seemed to be processing the events of the last few hours, and what they meant. Frisk, knowing they would be of little help here, took Rus's hand and guided him into the kitchen, presumably to try and make themselves useful.

Lust ground his teeth. He needed something to calm himself down while they waited for Stretch. Knowing the other monster was safe, at least, was enough to take the edge off, but Lust knew Stretch was about as prepared as Lust himself was (which was to say, very little at all), and that meant that any number of things could go wrong which Stretch might not be able to effectively deal with. Lust couldn't be particularly useful here, so he needed to find some other way to be useful.

There was only one thing he could think of.

Taking hold of Red's arm, Lust took a shortcut into the bedroom upstairs, tugging Red to sit with him on the bed. Red snarled. "Whats th' big idea, pixie stick?!"

Lust looked at the other skeleton, drinking in his image. Red was agitated, more so than Lust would have expected from just a simple fight with Dance. And the fight itself had been blown out of proportion... Lust smiled softly. Red must be as worried about Stretch as Lust himself was, maybe even more so. That meant that Lust could indeed be useful.

Lust reached out, cupping Red's face with both hands, and pulled him close, pressing their frontal bones together, their nasal ridges grazing one another as Lust breathed in deep of the other's scent. Red went stiff, still not used to such gentle touches or affectionate gestures. Lust hummed softly, closing his eyes. He let himself become more aware of every movement, every surge of energy, every subtle queue that Red gave him, let his SOUL begin to throb in time with his.

Red relaxed into him, his aggression slowly subsiding. "Shit..." he murmured, his low gravely voice softened from its usual bite. "Didn't mean t' make ya th' ref..."

Lust's grin widened. "It'll be alright... Stretch isn't stupid. He'll find his way back."

Red clicked his teeth irritably. "Don't give a shit if he does 'r not," he grumbled, averting his gaze as much as he could with their proximity.

Lust pulled away, raising an eyebrow ridge. "Sure you don't, sweetie..."

Red opened his mouth, likely to hiss out a scathing retort in affirmation of his original statement, but he closed it again, huffing with indignation as his maxilla flushed with embarrassment. Lust wrapped his arms around Red's chest, pulling him to lay against Lust's chest as he leaned back into the wall. Red allowed it, only vocalizing minor irritation when Lust spun him to press his back into Lust's chest, not flinching when Lust settled his legs on either side of him.

Lust slid his hands down to make slow, soothing circles on the ala or Red's ilium with one hand, the other sliding under his jacket to kneed at Red's clavicle through his sweater. Red stiffened at first, a warning growl emanating from his chest cavity, but he closed his eyes and relaxed back into Lust, letting his arms go limp. Lust smiled, feeling some of the tension ebb away as his hands worked, nuzzling into the side of Red's skull. Red huffed, closing his eyes as he let Lust's hands lull him into a daze.

Lust made certain Red was completely relaxed, then started to pull off his coat. Red immediately stiffened, be he allowed it. Lust set it aside, then began to work at Red's scapulae. Red made a noise of confusion, but started to lean into the touch, his tension again fading away. Lust hummed his approval, moving his hands to work at the other monster's spine from behind. He was a bit frustrated with having to work through the thick fabric of Red's sweater, pressing down harder to really get at the bones beneath with enough force.

After a few moments, Red pulled away, and started to slip off the sweater, grunting with the effort. Thankfully, this time the fabric didn't get caught on his collar, and it came off without much trouble. Red set the sweater on his coat, looking at Lust with irritation, before turning back around and leaning back. Lust smiled. _Understanding without words, that's what they had._ And Lust was immensely grateful for that.

Still, Lust marveled at the level of trust Red was displaying. He could _feel_ the undercurrents of anxiety, the worry that perhaps he was making a mistake, simmering just under the surface of the now exposed bone. Lust placed his hands back against Red's scapulae more gingerly, tracing the cracks and scratches that were etched in them. He felt Red shiver beneath his touch. Lust brought his hands inward and began working at Red's spine, shifting the vertebrae incrementally, adjusting the alignment which was just slightly off from bad posture (and probably a blunt force trauma if Lust was to take a guess). As Lust worked his way down from Red's cervical to his thoracic, Red began to make soft, deep, breathy noises, which grew to a gravelly hum.

Lust smirked, his SOUL swelling with pride. Finishing with Red's thoracic, Lust placed his hand at strategic points and guided the curve of the spine to something more healthy, pulling Red to lean against him again. Red remained pliant, posing none of the resistance Lust knew he could raise if he so chose. The anxiety coming off of Red was slowly diminishing, along with his stress. Lust made certain Red was situated, then let his hands creep lower to work at his lumbar region. He hesitated, remembering the last time he had touched those vertebrae, but Red didn't even flinch when his phalanges made contact. Lust stroked at the spines tenderly, watching as the joints began to flush with pink light. He adjusted them, shifting the tilt and position of Red's spine for the best result, and then went back to petting, nuzzling against Red's scapula as his other hand came back up to massage Red's clavicle.

"Better?" Lust asked with a whisper.

Red didn't answer, but one of his claws came to rest on Lust's leg, gripping it lightly and giving a relatively gentle squeeze.

Lust guided Red to lay down, snuggling more into Red's back. Red snatched up his coat, tossing it over the both of them before he curled and closed his eyes. Lust hooked one leg around Red's, taking a deep breath, enjoying the scent of mustard and sweat that clung to the jacket that swamped them both.

"It'll be alright..." Lust murmured, feeling physically and emotionally drained.

Red huffed, one hand wrapping around the one Lust had tangled in his intercostal spaces. "Yeah..." he muttered, sounding put out and tired.

Lust let his eyes close, his last thought of the words he was still too cowardly to say.

* * *

Comic was brought out of his revery by a buzz on his phone:

> GROUP CHAT  
>  **Stretch:** Turn on the machine 

Comic felt a shiver run down his spine. For some reason, the words looked like a plea for help. He instinctively reached to flip the switch, stopping himself from touching the machine from sheer force of will, focusing himself on his phone as he pushed down his panic.

> GROUP CHAT  
>  **Me:** it's still broken  
>  **Dance:** you find any parts?  
>  **Stretch:** no 

Comic looked up at Dance, who's expression and posture conveyed that he was just as shaken as Comic himself was. Dance glared at his phone, eye lights flashing briefly with emotion before he once again schooled his face to mild irritation, stuffed the device back into his hoodie pocket, and began pacing. Comic sighed, putting his own phone away. He wouldn't get anywhere by panicking.

Rus and Frisk came out of the kitchen, carrying mugs of something hot and sweet smelling. Comic took his, and drank absently. _Tea, but not the usual Goldenflower variety Rus was fond of._ He watched Rus look around the room, confusion on his face, before handing Slim and Dance their cups and sitting down on the couch. Frisk sipped at their cup quietly by Comic's side.

Slim sipped at the drink, seeming to take solace in it, between puffs of the most recent cigarette. He had been quite for some time, and while that wasn't unusual for him from what Comic could see, the _nature_ of his silence was worrisome. There was a melancholy to him that hadn't been there before, and he occasionally felt along in his pocket for something, but not in the manner with which he would grope blindly for his next hit.

Comic was just about to say something when Slim broke the silence of the room.

"DT," He said softly. "Thats what fuels our shortcuts."

"So? We knew that," Dance muttered irritably.

"WHAT IS D.T. AGAIN?" Rus asked, trying to keep up with the line of thought, but lacking the background knowledge to do so. Comic flinched imperceptibly, wishing for the hundredth time that his little brother could have been in the dark about all of this.

"Determination," Slim explained, "its a human trait that-"

"Anyway," Comic interrupted, not wanting to involve Rus more if he can help it, "What were ya getting at?"

"The machine is designed to boost our magic, which is also used for our shortcuts... but its not _all_ there is to it, is there?"

"Shit-! Thats why it short-circuited!" Dance muttered. "We were only boosting the Magic, so it overcompensated!"

"Thats my theory, anyway," Slim affirmed, drinking more of his tea.

"So if we want the thing to work... we gotta boost the DT too..." Comic ground his teeth, straining to keep his smile in place. "Thats a tall order..."

"What? Worried we'll come up _short_?" Slim asked, snickering.

"More worried about how _long_ it'll take to get the parts we need..." Dance said, looking at the machine with his usual tight grin. "And where exactly are we supposed to get a source of DT? You gonna let us use the human as a battery?"

Comic scowled at the idea. Frisk blinked, eyeing both Dance and the machine dubiously.

"Thought not," Dance muttered irritably, leaning back into the wall as he downed his tea in one gulp.

"Can't we boost the signal we're already putting out?" Slim asked, watching Frisk and Comic with mild amusement.

"Yes, if we actually knew the frequency of DT when it was isolated, but wow, guess what, we don't," Dance deadpanned.

"YOUR WORDS ARE OVERSATURATED WITH SODIUM CHLORIDE, WHICH IS UNHEALTHY AND NOT AT ALL NECESSARY FOR TEA, OF WHICH WE ARE DRINKING," Rus said with an unusual mixture of joviality, exasperation, and superiority.

Slim started shaking with silent laughter. Dance went rigid, blinking like he wasn't sure what hit him. Comic gaped at his little brother. "Did you just-"

"YES SANS, I AM ALSO CAPABLE OF SASS," Rus said, waving off Comic's shock. "BUT THAT IS NOT THE POINT." He looked at Dance, grinning. "THIS D.T. STUFF IS MADE BY HUMANS? SO CAN YOU NOT JUST ASKED THE HUMAN FRISK FOR A SAMPLE AND GET THE FREQUENCY YOU NEED FROM THAT??"

Dance and Comic looked at Rus with identical expressions of surprise. Slim just laughed harder, hissing noises squeezing passed his clenched teeth.

Dance recovered first. "If we got enough to examine, that would make is possi-"

"We are NOT using Frisk as a lab rat! We can just go borrow one of the other SOULs to get-"

"That won't be _pure_ DT, Comic!" Dance retorted. "If it would have worked, we'd have the frequency from all the old tests we ran! The waveforms from the primary trait are too strong to get a reading on something we already know so little abou-"

"Then we'll get data from all six of the other SOULs and reverse engineer it!" Comic growled back, his usual lazy posture growing stiff.

"With what time?" Dance shot back, pushing off the wall. "And thats even assuming all six of the others HAVE enough DT to get a reading from! Face it, our best chance is to use that huma-"

Comic's eye flared, his grin stretched across his face tightly. "We are not extracting ANYTHING from-"

"I'll do it." Frisk said suddenly. Their voice was quiet, soft, but there was a quality to it that bespoke of their resolve, a crispness, a maturity, that cut through the air, breaking through the building animosity between the two arguing monsters.

"Frisk..!" Comic breathed, looking at the human with significant concern.

"Hand over your SOUL, then, Human," Dance said evenly, a smirk playing at his teeth.

"No way am I letting you-"

"SANS!" Rus snapped. Comic flinched, looking sharply at his brother. Rus took a deep breath. "SANS, I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU ARE NOT. COMFORTABLE. WITH THE HUMAN TAKING ACTION, BUT MAYBE GIVING THEM A CHANCE TO HELP WOULD BE A GOOD THING?" Rus' voice lowered to be more calming.

"This isn't about that, bro, it's about what you're suggesting being painful, and invasive, and unnecessary." Comic argued in his softer, less biting voice.

"But I _want_ to help," Frisk persisted. "Besides..." The placed their hand on Comic's arm, looking at him with a gentle smile. "If you're there, you can make sure it goes smoothly right? You'll keep an eye socket out for me?" Their voice was practically dripping with trust, unconditional faith radiating off of them.

Comic closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He really, _really_ didn't want to, but how could he say no? "Alright, you win. But the instant you want it to stop, you say so, and it ends. No questions asked, got me?"

Frisk nodded, grinning wider. Dance huffed, crossing his arms. Slim chuckled, finishing his tea.

"We'll need to borrow Alphys' lab for this," Comic mused aloud. "It's got the only DT extraction machine..."

"I BET MS ALPHYS WOULDN'T MIND LENDING IT TO YOU!!" Rus chirped, leaning back on the couch, much more comfortable now that progress was being made.

"No she won't. Not right now, anyway..." Frisk interjected. The monsters in the room looked at them, all eyes asking for an explanation. Frisk bristled. "Um... She's got this... secret? And uh, she's not comfortable talking about it with anyone right now... And the secret is in the True Lab and thats where the DT extractor thingie is, so..." They trailed off.

Dance looked perplexed, conflicting emotions and ideas battling inside him. Slim blinked a few times, his mind trying to wrap around what the human's words meant, and taking a bit to come to a conclusion. Comic ground his teeth, annoyed because he knew Frisk was correct in their observation (and a little irritated in himself for forgetting).

"THATS OKAY! WE CAN JUST ASK NICELY TO USE THE EXTRACTOR THING AND GIVE HER TIME TO HIDE HER SECRET! AND MAYBE, AFTER IT IS DONE, SHE WILL REALIZE THERE IS NO NEED TO HIDE BECAUSE SHE IS OUR GOOD FRIEND AND WE BELIEVE IN HER." Rus asserted himself, standing up. He took the now empty cups and went to put them in the kitchen.

Comic didn't have the hope necessary for his brother's positive outlook, but a genuine smile still managed to creep onto his face. His brother was so cool. How could he _not_ believe it would all work out, with Rus there to help him.

Maybe it was time he started letting his brother help, instead of trying to shelter him from everything...

* * *

Frisk held onto Comic's hand as he took a shortcut with themselves and Rus to the True Lab. Dance and Slim followed behind shortly, leaving all five of them in the musty, dark depths of the lab.

Frisk shivered involuntarily as they looked around. The AC was on, which was unusual because Alphys always left it off. Still, it did mean the air was a little clearer. But that of course meant that it was easier to see the huge, intimidating skull shaped construction prominently displayed in the center of the room.

Comic pulled away from Frisk, placing his hand on a scanner on the back wall. A green light went off, and a door opened, leading into a hidden room Frisk had never seen before. Inside was a computer and a number of monitors, all of which were switched off. Comic, Dance, and Slim got to work turning everything on, as Frisk and Rus watched the machines come to life.

Frisk jumped when they heard a loud hissing noise. They turned around. The DT Extractor was now active, the half a dozen tub like wires pulsing and shifting as though they were organic, reminding Frisk of a nightmarish creature they had faced in an endless, empty void. A loud mechanical sound brought Frisk's attention to the chasm below. Rising from the darkness came a metal slab, large enough for a sizable monster to sprawl on. It was affixed with four adjustable straps, one in each corner of the rectangular surface, which was apparently capable of shifting to change the distance between the straps. When the slab reached it's maximum height, a few feet above floor level, a grate platform began to extend from the floor to the slate, making it possible to walk up to it.

Comic gripped Frisk's arm gently but firmly, guiding them to the machine. Frisk hesitated, unable to completely squash their nervousness, but slid onto the metal table. They couldn't help feeling like they had walked into the jaws of a beast, staring up at the intimidating inner workings of the machine from below.

"Are you _completely certain_ you want to do this?" Comic asked one last time, pulling a large tube device from it's hook on the inside of the 'skull', opening one end to reveal a 2 millimeter gage needle.

Frisk looked at the needle, swallowing back the lump in their throat. They weren't a fan of needles, and considering where they were sure it needed to go... The human smacked their cheeks a few times, steeling their resolve. "Yes. I'm certain."

Rus approached hesitantly, ducking so as not to bump into the rim of the machine. "WILL IT HELP IF I HOLD YOUR HAND, HUMAN??" He asked, offering one hand as he stood next to the table Frisk was sitting on.

Frisk looked at Comic, wanting to be certain that it was alright to do that, that it wouldn't affect the result. Comic smiled softly, nodding. Frisk latched onto Rus's hand, who squeezed back reassuringly.

Comic flicked his hand, bringing out Frisk's SOUL and delicately taking hold of it. Frisk shivered, the sensation foreign, making them feel exposed and vulnerable. That feeling was only exacerbated when Comic eased the needle into their SOUL. Frisk's breath caught, a yelp and a whimper escaping them, even as they felt there was no intent to hurt in the act. Rus used his gloved thumb to massage the back of Frisk's hand, which they appreciated.

The pain ebbed, and Comic set the SOUL, still attached to the machine by the needle, carefully in a niche on the inside of the skull, where it wouldn't be jostled or disturbed during the next phase. Frisk pushed down their nervousness, smiling as Comic rounded to face them again. "If, at any time, you need us to stop, you just let us know, alright? We don't need to take it all at once, so we can go as fast or as slow as you want to go."

Frisk nodded. Knowing that Comic was in control filled them with DETERMINATION. Their SOUL pulsed with a vibrant red light, swelling with power.

Comic looked at Rus. "The kid might, uh... lets just say this might hurt. And if you aren't comfortable with that then-"

"WORRY NOT, BROTHER! THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS AN EXCELLENT COMFORT GIVER!! AND ALSO VERY GOOD AT BEING SUPPORTIVE!! I WILL BE RIGHT HERE FOR THE HUMAN WHILE THEY ARE IN NEED!" Rus gave a thumbs up with his free hand, reassurance radiating from his smile.

Comic nodded, still not convinced, but willing to try and let Rus do what he could. He returned to the back room. After a few moments, Frisk heard the machine seem to... switch gears? Turn on more? There was the sound like rushing water, and the warmth of steam as it was released from pipes and dissipated into the air, dampening the room with a heavy wet heat.

Then there was **P A I N** , as though Frisk was being liquified and drained from the inside out, **P A I N** and **C O L D** as their very essence was ripped away from them, leaving them _empty_ and _isolated_ and _vulnerable_. They had suffered pain before, they had been burned alive, and shish-kabob'ed, and clubbed to death, and cut to ribbons, and electrocuted, and drugged, and eaten alive, but nothing, NOTHING compared to this; to being drained of their very life force. It was like bleeding out, feeling the weight of being empty, the sickening nausea, the weakness, only each drop they lost was a knife digging into every nerve ending at once and the **P A I N** just kept going on and on and on and _dear god, let it be over, make it stop, **make it stop, make it-**_

But no, they couldn't stop, no no no not yet, _not yet,_ not when this might actually help people, make a difference that maybe, just maybe, wouldn't be erased when they inevitably had to press that hateful golden button in their minds eye. They had to keep it together, had to focus, had to STAY DETERMINED.

Frisk's eyesight went fuzzy, darkening along the edges of their vision and dimming as their body stopped responding to their commands. They clenched their teeth, refusing to scream no matter how badly they wanted to. They dimly felt the sturdy support of Rus at their side, keeping them from falling over. All noise became distant static.

Frisk barely noticed when the machine turned off, still caught in the grip of soul-crushing agony.

They barely heard Rus shouting as they were lowered to lay on the metal slab, which was now uncomfortably cold against the bare skin of their hands and neck and face.

They barely registered the warm presence of Comic, whose warm phalanges gripped at their face as he tried in vain to call them back from the all consuming darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Lust's heat was kinda drained out when he healed Chara, so he doesn't feel the need to jump Red RN (all he wants is to cuddle, and keep Red from doing something he'd regret in a fit of anger
> 
> ~ Yes, Rus just called Dance 'salty', because Rus is starting to lose his patience with the group, who have done very little but fight for the past few hours, which is not productive and isn't going to help their friends in the least
> 
> ~ Red turned the AC on when he was down there in the True Lab
> 
> ~ Dance is 100% up for some human poking, but he knows Comic isn't a fan.
> 
> ~ Rus has long been Done with Comic not letting him help out, even if he knows that his brother's heart is in the right place
> 
> ~ Comic definitely said "shit" at some point at the end there.


	5. Back At HQ (Pt 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate POV of the timeframe during [Chapter 38: The Second Horror](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10828317/chapters/26328432)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST POST OF 2018  
> WOOOOOOOOOOOO  
> And I will hopefully continue

Comic hovered over the human, panic drowning out sentient thought. This is what he had been worried about. As soon as he had heard the screaming, he had started shutting down the machine (Dance's bitching be damned) and rushed out.

Admittedly, he hadn't expected the screaming to come from his brother, but...

"SANS!! SANS!! THE HUMAN, THEY'RE-" Rus was beside himself, alternating between clutching at Frisk's hand, and wringing his own as he hovered.

Comic could understand his feelings. There wasn't much they could do. Frisk was pale, almost as white as their bones, their breathing ragged as tears streamed quietly down their face. Comic wiped them away with his sleeve, feeling their face and neck uselessly with his other hand, uncertain what to do. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and forcibly combing though his thoughts to get something coherent. _Their SOUL._ Yes, that what he needed to do.

Comic turned around, pulling down Frisk's SOUL and easing out the needle. The tender, sensitive red organ was pale and cold, lacking the warmth and vibrancy it had held not five minutes ago. It trembled in his fingers, but seemed to calm down at his touch. He held it close, carefully, inspecting it for any damage, pressing down his panic to try and impress soothing and calm intent, as though he were in the presence of a wounded animal. When Comic was certain it wasn't going to shatter, he brought it back to Frisk and encouraged it to return where it belonged. Frisk gasped, accepting their SOUL with a weak heave of their body, before once more going limp.

Rus sighed with relief, sitting next to his human friend and rubbing their shoulder, more to assure himself that they would not disappear. Comic stood there, watching for a sign, any sign, that Frisk was recovering. His tense posture only relaxed when he noticed the color begin to return to their face.

"DID IT WORK?" Rus asked, his voice quieter than usual.

"What?" Comic looked away from the human, not having paid attention to his brother.

"DID YOU GET WHAT YOU NEEDED?" Rus asked again, looking at his brother. "THE HUMAN DID NOT SUFFER IN VAIN, DID THEY?"

Comic ground his teeth. "I think so, bro."

"GOOD!" Rus smiled. "THAT WAS... VERY UNPLEASANT, SANS... I DO NOT WISH FOR IT TO BE NECESSARY TO REPEAT THE EXPERIENCE."

Comic felt his SOUL clench. "I'm sorry, Paps, I didn't want-"

"SANS." Rus's tone turned harder. "WE CAN HAVE THAT PARTICULAR CONVERSATION LATER, WHEN THE HUMAN IS NOT IN DIRE NEED OF CUDDLES AND REST."

Comic looked back down at Frisk. Their breathing had slowed, and they were no longer deathly pale, but their pallor was still unhealthy. Comic scooped them up into his arms and sat on the table, trying to impart what he had in terms of stability. If their SOUL was going to recover, any outside source of comfort was going to be helpful. At least, if human SOULs worked like monster SOULs... he wasn't entirely certain. That uncertainty made him nervous. He stubbornly pushed that nervousness down.

Rus sat next to his brother, wrapping one of his long arms around Comic's shoulders, pulling him into a half hug, his other hand resting affectionately on Frisk's shoulder. He effortlessly pressed his intent to soothe, to rejuvenate, to help, into not only Frisk, but Comic. Rus had plenty to give, and give he intended to.

Frisk made a soft noise, between a pant and a huff. They curled into Comic's chest, seeking out the source of the comfort he was imparting. The tension in their body eased gradually, their alarmingly small frame melting into the gentle buzzing of the skeletons' magic. If someone had cared to look (as Comic was doing every 30 seconds), they would see Frisk's SOUL was beginning to regain color, thrumming a pale pastel pink that deepened in saturation, working its way back to it's original vibrant crimson.

Comic's panic died down, leaning into his brother for emotional and magical support. He never, ever wanted to do this again.

* * *

Dance sniffed derisively, catching a glimpse of Comic and his fussing on one of the monitors. He knew, objectively, that he should be sympathetic. He knew it, but he simply couldn't dredge up any kind of sympathy in regards to the human. He couldn't figure out why his counterpart cared so much.

Or perhaps he was willfully blind.

Dance shook his head, turning his attention back to the monitors, his fingers dancing over the keyboard as he guided the computer through the calculations and analyses. There was, thankfully, enough DT that he might, possibly, be able to isolate the frequency. However, the human, as he had anticipated, was not pure DETERMINATION. No human was. Oh, certainly, DETERMINATION was their primary trait (it was so overwhelming it made Dance a little nauseous just looking at the numbers), but there was so much more to it: he was already nullifying their PERSEVERANCE, and he could see from the data that there was KINDNESS and BRAVERY to spare. What surprised him the most, though, was just how much JUSTICE and INTEGRITY was woven inside them. It was a toss up for their secondary trait, twisting and coiling in microscopic strands of molten gold and shining sapphire.

Dance couldn't help feeling a small smidgen of satisfaction, knowing those strings would tighten painfully around their heart, choking them in agonizing guilt.

Okay, maybe not so small: he was unashamedly smug about it. It served the little freak right.

"Can ya do it?" Slim asked, breaking through Dance's contemplation. He leaned carefully over Dance's shoulder, bracing himself on the desk with one hand as he watched the screens, following along as best he could. This was not Slim's specialty, by any means, so Dance's speed and precision kept leaving him behind.

"Yeah. Just a matter of time..." Dance replied, returning his focus to the task at hand.

The two skeletons fell silent, the click of the keys clicking under bony phalanges lulling them both into a state of focus.

* * *

Red dozed for a while, far too comfortable to bring himself to leave the hold of the skeleton behind him. He felt a pleasent rumble in his chest, mimicking the one that he could feel in Lust's, only deeper, stronger, louder. Red released his restraint, and the rumbling was let loose, like that of a motor. It... felt good to let that out. What was that? It made his chest cavity quiver and his SOUL matched the frequency, ccompleting that feeling of belonging he got when he felt Lust's magic rush through him from the contact they shared.

He had no idea how long he just lay there and... wasn't angry.

But he had an errand to run. And it was important.

So he slipped out from Lust's grip, carefully untangling his phalanges from his ribs and pulling away. Lust made a noise of protest, bone brows furrowing as he grasped at the space Red previously occupied. Red curled his coat tighter around Lust in a panicked attempt to make him think he was still there. Lust grasped onto the thick sleeve of Red's coat, pulling it closer and snuggling into the leather. Red sighed in relief as he slipped his sweater back on, fished his phone out of his coat, tucked it into the pocket of his shorts, then sidestepped into the dump. If he was lucky he would find what he needed.

Red dug for a while before he lucked out: a ruined belt, but the buckle was still in one piece; a pair of leather pants ripped in the crotch; and some needles rusted by the water. He grinned. If he worked fast, he could finish before he would be needed back at the house.

Then he could badger Dance to help him with the final piece.


	6. A Peak into Underswap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Title: So Whats Blue Been Up To?
> 
> This takes place sometime after Chapter 14, but the exact correlating timeframe is up in the air. I'd guess around chapter 35.
> 
> See things from Blue's Point of View.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a drabble I had stuck in my archives for a while and never posted. But here have a look and see things from sweet, innocent Blue's perspective.

Sans sat up, throwing the blanket off his body as he rubbed his eyes. His alarm hadn't gone off (but then again, he hadn't heard his alarm go off for weeks... or at least what felt like weeks). Taking a deep breath, putting on his best, most enthusiastic smile, he got out of bed.

Sure, Papy wasn't here to have to smile for, but Sans didn't want to get out of practice. Even the slightest mistake in his facial features, and his brother would know something was wrong. Sans knew Papy was ungodly good at reading faces, and it had taken many years of practice to learn how to fool him, even a little, never mind as much as he had to now. Sans still slipped up sometimes, but thankfully never too badly.

Papy was still blissfully ignorant of how utterly _boned_ they really were.

And Sans wanted to keep it that way: he didn't want to burden his big brother any more than he already was. Papy might have been lazy and slothful and a complete slob, but Sans knew he worked hard, taking on multiple jobs, paying the bills... Papy did a lot, and Sans was happy to pick up the slack around the house. Sans was happy to do the cleaning and the cooking, happy to let Papy sleep on the couch, so long as he didn't sleep too much when he was at his station.

He was happy that Papy slept through the little hiccups in time, happy he didn't notice. His brother was emotionally fragile. Something like that would slowly eat him alive.

He was happy to keep Temmie's attention if it meant keeping the nasty little plush toy away from his brother.

Too bad Temmie was the least of his problems now.

Suppressing a groan, Sans slid of the bed and quickly got dressed. He had a lot to do and not very much time to do it. The human would arrive in 3 hours, 14 minutes and 46.. 45... 44 seconds. The human. Sans didn't want to do it again. He didn't want to have to do it again.

_Why did this one keep coming back?_

Sans pushed the door of his bedroom open and headed downstairs. He quickly cooked up meat for his Trap Tacos, just in case the human decided to be MERCYful. He had to remain consistent. He had to keep his ACT up. He had to keep smiling. He had to keep his eye lights bright. He had to follow orders.

Smile. Stay positive. Find the human.

_~~Kill the human.~~ _

Sans shook his head, putting the burnt taco meat in the shells and adding the other ingredients, ignoring the way his stomach knotted up. He had made one mistake, one time, setting the heat too high, mixing up the glue for the chili sauce and the glitter for the pepper... and now he had to keep making it, over and over and over, even though he knew this wasn't fit for consumption. On the bright side, his brother wasn't here to have to suffer through it. On the downside, Sans didn't like making mistakes, even if they were on-purpose mistakes that he _had_ to make.

On the upside, at least it was familiar.

Or perhaps that was a downside.

Sans sighed, picking up the plate. He took a deep breath, schooled his face back into his megawatt smile, crashed though his front door, laughing at the top of his lungs as he raced over the snow. He didn't need to look around to know that the townsfolk he passed were watching with idle amusement (he had done so before, and their responses never changed). He didn't need to look down to know that a rock had been placed in the middle of the road, which he had to jump over. He didn't need to strain his hearing to know that Greater Dog had barked a 'Good Morning', which he called out an answer to.

He didn't need to check his watch when he arrived at the table he had set up outside of town to know he had 2 hours and 47 minutes before the human came out of the ruins. Sans darted about, calibrating his puzzles in a very specific order (one he found would kill just the right amount of time). His life was all about time now, wasn't it? How much time it took to get from his house to his puzzles, how much time it took to get from the ruins to Snowdin, how much time it took before he couldn't fight anymore.

It was also all about words. The words he had to say to keep the human going forward, the words he had to say to keep Alphys off his back, the words he had to pretend didn't hurt his feelings and his pride-

_" Oh my god..! It's a fricken' blueberry..! I can't breath..!" _

Sans ground his teeth. It had been days (weeks?), but those words (that laughter) still stung. How he had hoped that that rude fellow would take him up on his offer of sparring!! He had wanted so badly to smack that infuriating grin off his face, wanted so badly for that other skeleton to 'get to know' him. But he hadn't taken the bait. Instead, the monster that looked like Papy had engaged him. Sans had had to fake excitement at first about that, but after the first few turns, he really did get into it. He had never sparred with a monster as good at dodging as that before, and it almost made him get carried away. He had wanted to keep going, but knew it wouldn't do to spend all day playing in the snow, so he had gracefully accepted a draw.

He hadn't expended too much energy in his excitement, or in the hopes of knocking that smug grin off the guy's face. No, he hadn't gotten carried away at all.

On the bright side, that same day had gotten Sans a spinal alignment (that really had felt good). _And_ he got to see his brother enjoy a massage too! Papy worked so hard, but sometimes even Sans forgot how much stress he was under behind that slouched posture and lazy grin and constant sleeping. Seeing him really, truly relax had been a reward in itself.

Sans finished the last puzzle, and started heading towards the outskirts of Snowdin, closer to the Ruins. The human would be coming soon. Stopping at the sentry station, Sans ran his gloved hand over the wood top, brushing off the layer of snow that had piled up over the course of the morning. Even though it had been ages for him, Sans still felt the prickling of tears in his eye sockets as he remembered how his brother would be asleep at this very station every day before he disappeared.

Sans knew Papy was safe somewhere. He knew it. He could feel it in his bones.

Even so, he missed him.

Even so, he hoped Papy wouldn't come back again. Not yet. He didn't want to introduce the human to his brother again. He didn't want to lie by omission again. He didn't want any of this nonsense touching his poor fragile brother, at least not until he had figured out how to consistently get the human to be a good person.

He knew they could. He had seen them do it.

He _needed_ them to do it.

The distant grinding sound of stone against stone drifted through the air. Sans steeled his resolve. The human was coming. Again.

Sans wondered if it would be with a smile or a knife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the cerebral horror of what this tells you sink in.
> 
> You know, it shouldn't be surprising Blue remembers through resets too, since he and stretch are fraternal twins.
> 
> Stretch is the "big brother" because he's taller  
> Blue is the "little brother" because he's shorter
> 
> Blue knows Stretch would all too easily fall into depression (since it happened before), so he babies him by being excessively optimistic and cheerful.
> 
> Blue has made it his life's mission to be one big distraction. And he is good at it.


	7. A Wordless Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red POV of the scene in [Chapter 45: Afterparty (Pt 2)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10828317/chapters/33506949)
> 
> Some vague inner monologe hinting at the significance and nuance of collars in Fell-Verse culture.
> 
> Alternate title: Skeletons can't tread water, so they also sink into denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is centered entirely around my headcanon on what i call "tracer magic"  
> the stuff that makes fell-verse collars different than your average petplay kink

This was it. He was going to do it. He was going to do it, because if he didn't, he was going to drive himself crazy thinking about all the shit that could go terribly, horribly wrong. He was going to do it for his own peace of mind. Not because he cared. He didn't care. Caring was stupid. This was him being selfish. Thats all.

...Fuck, he couldn't even convince himself anymore, could he?

His little project worked. He tested it twice already. All he had to do now was call up that son of a bitch who started this mess and get it over with. 

Which he had been trying to do for over twenty minutes. For some reason his damn call button wouldn't work.

It might have helped if he actually pressed it.

Snarling, angry with himself and everything else to ever exist, ever, Red finally tried just texting. His stupid fingers worked, and he was able to send a text demanding Lust meet him at Lust's house (where it was marginally safer), in his room.

Red wasn't actually all that excited to see Lust's room. If his shed was anything to go by it was going to be filled with a bunch of weird stuff Red didn't want to see or know or touch. However, he couldn't ask Lust to come back here to his universe, and he certainly couldn't go anywhere else.

So that left Lust's place. Specifically his bedroom, since Red din't want Pinkie interrupting.

He didn't want anything interrupting.

Red would only have one shot at this (because his SOUL wasn't going to be able to take the strain of trying again).

Lust texted back!

...The hell did he mean, 'meet you in your room instead?' Red growled, shortcutting for Lust's room. He didn't want the pixie stick coming anywhere near is universe agai-

Red moved maybe two feet to the left, still in his own universe.

He tried again, getting a similar result.

Red snarled, cursing under his breath. The damn machine was broken _again_ and he wasn't even there to fix it!! He shortcut to his kitchen, snatching a bottle of mustard he had stashed in there and downing it in frustration. _That was it then. No more FreExp to worry about, no more annoying busybodies, no more multiverse hopping._ Red reached into his lefthand pocket, feeling the leather and the stitching of the thing he had made so carefully, that he had made certain would work for his purposes, even if it wasn't what he would call good enough. Something hot and painful clenched around Red's SOUL, reminding him of the same discomfort BLUE and GREEN magic gave him. Almost sent him into the same mind-numbing panic too (not that he would ever admit it), except...

...Someone was in his room. That was definitely his bed that made that squeak. He knew those cheep springs like the back of his hand.

Red shortcut to just outside his bedroom door, assuming his more relaxed (most agile) posture, ready to strike down the intruder who had the balls to enter his house (where Edge lived, where his brother came to rest and recover and was supposed to be the single bastion of safety the skeletons had). He peaked through the keyhole to see what he was up against, to give him any kind of advantage, and... there was Lust?

"How th' fuck..?" Red grumbled out loud under his breath, a weight he hadn't known was even there lifting from his SOUL. He opened the door, stuffing his other hand in his shorts pocket. "How'd ya get here?" Red snapped. It came out more irritated than he intended, but he couldn't very well help that.

"Shortcut," Lust answered. 

"Damn machine's broken. I couldn't get through t' yer universe..!" Red complained, kicking the door shut behind him.

Lust smiled. "Seems I don't really need it. Go figure."

Red took that information in. How..? He knew Lust didn't have any LV to speak of. Which meant... it had to be his LT. How much LT did Lust have?? And... and what did he have to do, to suffer through, to get it so high?

And if Lust could come and go as he pleased... what did it mean that he still came when Red called?

Red squeezed the leather trinket a bit tighter. Even if Lust didn't have Red's LV, he could go anywhere. _Anywhere._ That was even _more_ reason he should be keeping tabs on the idiot. Lust had already proven to be a magnet for trouble, and whatever advantage high LT gave him in terms of magic, it balanced out by making him more vulnerable physically. Not to mention wrecking his long-term stamina. What if he got stuck somewhere, caught by someone, like the lizard bitch had??

But then again, Lust was only caught because he had done something stupid. If Lust was smart (for once), he wouldn't really need Red at all...

But Lust was the stupid type. He had proven that by coming here.

And Red was going to do something stupid himself if he didn't get this over with.

"I got somethin' important t' discuss with ya, an' its gonna sound fuckin' weird t' ya so yer gonna shut up an' listen," Red finally force himself to say.

Lust patted the dingy mattress, looking at Red expectantly. Red didn't move. Lust sighed. "Okay, sweetie. You said you wanted to talk. I'll listen. However much you need."

Red growled. "I don't wanna fuckin' _talk_ I just-" He made a frustrated noise, turning away and rubbing his face with one claw (his right claw, his left still firmly gripping the leather trinket in his pocket). How was he even supposed to do this? Could he just hand it over? Would Lust understand? Was this even a thing in Lust's universe? He hadn't actually sensed any tracer magic while he was there besides his own collar and Slim's... He didn't really think this through, of course Lust wasn't going to understand.

But if Lust didn't know, maybe that was better. He didn't have to worry about being judged. It would be just a... a gift, he supposed. A gift. No real meaning behind it. He wouldn't have to explain anything, wouldn't have to look Lust in the eyes knowing he _knew_ what Red meant by it.

He wouldn't have to worry about rejection. Not that he cared. Because he absolutely, positively did not care. This was just so he wouldn't be distracted while he was at work. He just needed Lust to wear the damn thing. It would still work even if Lust didn't fully accept his magic.

Red marched over to Lust. Then he pointed at his coat. "Take it off."

Lust bristled, an expression of hurt flashing across his face, before his usual lazy, seductive smile settled back in place. He slid out of the leather coat, offering it back to Red.

Red grabbed it and set it on the bed, taking a step closer to Lust. _What the hell did he do now?? Why was Lust upset?? It was his coat, goddamn it, he wanted it back eventually!! What did he do now, he didn't even call him a slut this time, why the hell was he upset now?? It wasn't supposed to be a BAD THING, goddamn it-_

"Red..?" Lust's voice broke Red out of his internal ranting.

"Close yer eyes an' don't move," Red commanded. Lust raised an eyebrow ridge, but complied. Red scowled at the blatant display of trust. That was a good way to get yourself in trouble. Wasn't Lust afraid of him at all? Red crept closer, pulling out the leather trinket from his pocket. This kind of behavior was just one more reason Red needed to do this.

But not because he cared.

Just because it was going to drive him nuts.

Red carefully measured out the length that would make the best fit, testing it with his hands. Lust squirmed, making it harder to perfect the fitting. "I said not t' move, pixie stick," Red growled, annoyed when he heard his nerves escape in his voice. He made himself get closer, cursing inwardly because he was getting distracted by the way the dim light made his teeth marks stand out on Lust's neck, drawing his attention away. He shook himself, reminding himself that he had a mission.

Red finally wrapped the black leather collar around Lust's neck, carefully selecting the tightness that would fit him best: not too tight, but not too loose either. He had a difficult time choosing between two of the notches, before deciding on the smaller of them (since Lust's frame was smaller than his and probably would do better erring on that side of caution), and clinched the buckle. The moment he did, he felt the magic he had stitched into the leather activate. The effect it had on Lust was immediate, and criminally satisfying.

Red couldn't believe how fast Lust just accepted it, letting Red in on the deepest level this kind of connection would allow.

Even Red hadn't let Edge link with him like this.

Maybe he should have explained it before, after all..?

...Whatever. It wasn't his fault Lust was an idiot. If he was dumb enough to give Red this much information, he probably needed this level of monitoring.

It was going to be seriously distracting at first, though. Red would need to get used to this fast.

...He was going to get used to seeing that collar around Lust's neck _real_ fast. It looked good on him. Red's magic looked good on him. Just like his teeth marks did. Red felt that annoying, embarrassing itch start up in his chest. He ignored it as he stepped back. "There. Don't take it off fer nothin', 'r I'mma break yer fuckin' legs an' beat ya with th' splinters."

Lust opened his eyes. Red pulled his coat back on as he watched Lust probe at the collar around his neck, curious. Lust found the inner surface, where the greater part of his intent had gone. He must have noticed the magic that Red had fed into it because he jolted in surprise. Red felt the signal his magic sent him, noting the slight delay between when Lust actually touched his collar and when Red felt it.

Red felt the grin on his face widen considerably.

Lust pulled out his phone, digging into the storage box before pulling out a mirror. He held it up to look at himself. Red felt the faint echo of shock, then something positive, come from him. Lust smiled wryly, hooking two fingers inside to get a good grip. "Normally I'm not into this sort of thing, but for you I can make an excepti-" Lust had tugged lightly on the collar as he spoke, but the moment he did his breath hitched, cutting off his words.

Red tried to keep a straight face as he felt clear as day just how much Lust liked the feel of his magic. He felt that itch in his chest grow more irritating.

Lust tugged a bit on the collar in the other direction, tilting the mirror so he could see the inside. It took a few moments for him to get an angle he could use, but Red knew the moment he saw it, not only from the echo of shock, but from the look on his face.

Lust saw the name.

"Sans," Lust read out loud, voice soft, almost awe-stricken. "Red," Lust looked away from the mirror, his distal phalanges seeking out the stitching in question. "Are you..." He grinned brightly, the echo of a particularly positive feeling hitting him. "...proposing to me?"

Red felt his SOUL stutter. " _NO!_ " He snarled defensively, gesticulating wildly with both claws. It was _not_ his fault Lust had made the connection this deep!! "I'm just sayin' that-! It ain't like that!! It's just-! Fuck, why ya gotta-"

Lust cut him off, shortcutting from his spot on the bed into Red's arms, grabbing Red's collar and pulling him into a kiss. Red was immensely grateful he had kept his connection to Edge so shallow, because he did not want his brother getting a play-by-play of everything going on with him right now. All of his tension drained away in that moment, from that one simple act, and he let his thoughts melt and blur into indistinct concepts that held no consequence. Nothing (beyond the well-being of his brother) matter much in this moment besides the monster that he now had firmly in his grasp.

Red distantly mused over the irony that he actually had gotten addicted to Lust the day he had snorted the drug. And Lust was one addiction he had no intention of curing himself of.

When Lust pulled his head away, Red's thoughts came back, and he became aware of the echos of satisfaction and contentment coming from Lust which had been hidden by his own moments before. "There, see? Feel better?" He murmured, looking up at Red with hooded sockets. Red couldn't look away from his glowing purple tongue as Lust licked his teeth, tasting Red's magic.

It wasn't fair that such a small act could affect him so much, make him lose himself and then bring him back again. Lust was the worst drug... and the best. That damn itch was almost making his ribs ache.

"Yeah," Red grumbled, idly scratching at the exposed arch of Lust's iliac crest with his other hand. "I hate when ya do that..."

"Do what?" Lust asked, nuzzling closer, starting to purr from the attention.

"Say shit t' piss me off, then- then-"

"Kiss you to shut you up?" Lust teased, nipping at Red's jaw.

"Yeah, that."

Lust snickered, stealing another kiss, purring even louder. Red melted into it, just like before. It was difficult not to when he was also getting the echoes of just how much Lust was enjoying it from his end. Red was really going to have to get used to this. He hoped there was a way to filter this stuff so it wasn't so distracting on a day-to-day basis.

He liked it a little too much.

Lust tugged gently, guiding Red over to the bed. He spun them so Lust could push Red down, making him lay back. Red growled a warning, but he didn't have it in him to really care. Not when he was being buffeted by all the satisfying, exhilarating things Lust was going through.

Lust pulled out of the kiss, straddling Red's spine and pushing his sweater up to work on Red's ribcage with knowing fingers, tracing over the sensitive scars that spiderwebbed over Red's bones and massaging the tension out of the cartilage. Red settled his claws on Lust's femurs so he would have something to grip, letting out a soft grunt of surprise at the first probing touch, then started breathing deep, letting his eye sockets drift shut again.

_Lust was a force to be reckoned with, with talent like this. It probably wasn't a good idea to let Lust touch him like this in his Universe. It was getting harder to keep his wits. It was getting harder still to keep that aching itch at bay, especially with how Lust's fingers seemed to find the places it hit hardest._

"I should thank you for such a nice gift," Lust purred, letting his own magic spark in his hand as he reached inside Red's ribcage and ghosted over his thoracic vertebrae. "You didn't have to get me anything..."

"Didn't do it fer ya," Red muttered, arching into Lust's hand. He would never admit it out loud, but Lust's magic felt amazing. "Was just gonna drive me nuts if I didn't..." Red cursed inwardly how he should keep his mouth shut, but it was hard to think when Lust was assaulting his senses and his SOUL at the same time.

Lust hummed in mock understanding, his amusement clear as day. "So what does it mean?"

Red huffed, squeezing Lust's legs with both claws. He did _not_ want to talk about that.

He didn't care. They weren't dating. Lust was the one who made the connection too open. It wasn't his fault. Red was not about to go cutting off the tracer magic and setting it up again.

Lust leaned down, bringing their frontal bones and nasal ridges together in a skeletal kiss, an intimate gesture that immediately had Red flustered. It almost made Red think that Lust knew, that he knew exactly what it meant, and was fucking with him. The soft, useless feelings echoing though their connection weren't helping either.

Lust started scratching and rubbing at the inner surface of Red's sternum. The itch in Red's ribcage broke free briefly, and it took most of his willpower to bring it back in. It was too late, however: Red felt the elation echo through his magic from Lust. He had heard it. And now his fingers were working overtime to make Red let go. Red growled again, opening one eye to glare up at Lust accusatorially. Lust, ever the persistent one, pressed his teeth to Red's again, his own purring growing louder.

Red couldn't keep in in anymore. His ribs trembled with a sound not unlike that of a motor, deep and rumbling and soothing. Lust made an obnoxious noise of absolute satisfaction, echoed though his magic. The hand not occupied with Red's inner ribcage came up to clutch at Red's jaw.

Red yanked a bit harder on Lust's collar in retaliation (when had he grabbed it? Red hadn't even noticed), pulling him closer. Lust was feeling a bit too full of himself, and Red was not the type to lay there and take it (at least not for long, or without good reason). He brought his other claw to Lust's exposed lumbar vertebrae, using his sharp distal phalanges to scratch teasingly at the spaces between them that he knew most others couldn't reach.

Red was rewarded with a needy whine from Lust. He felt the heat radiating off of Lust grow stronger, the monster grinding his now fully manifested groin into Red's spine, and couldn't help but grin. He tugged lightly at Lust's pants, a wordless request.

This was going to be the best way he avoided answering a question ever.

Red chuckled to himself. He knew he was in denial.

He knew he was in love.

_Damn it, he was in love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not sure if i should give the full explanation of my headcanon here... partly because i kinda like the mystery and partly because i think the hints lay it all out anyway and partly because i'm not sure if this will be covered in the fic or not
> 
> so if anyone is confused i guess just ask in the comments (or read comments that already asked) ?


	8. Razz VS Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Alt POV from [Chapter 7](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10828317/chapters/24141813). Razz's POV of his little encounter.
> 
> Requested by [MistressofYaoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressofYaoi)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Razz thinks of himself as Sans... because i feel like it
> 
> this was a rush job and i feel like i could have done better but fuck it here have this GARBAGE

Sans kicked at the dust piles, nudging the melted remnants of what had probably been armour. There wasn't much left, the pitiful scrap metal completely concealed by the grey powder until Sans had disturbed it with the tip of his pointed-toed boots. He narrowed his eyelights at it, his scowl impassive, almost judgmental. He wasn't sure who he was more annoyed with: the two dead dogs, or the fucker that had vaporized them without his permission.

They might have been useless, half-trained jackasses, but they had been _his_ useless, half trained jackasses.

From the (lack of) evidence, he knew this had to have been done with something akin to a Gaster Blaster, as his brother called them. The residue left over in the air felt familiar, but in a surreal way, almost like he himself had been here. But he knew that that was wrong too: this wasn't his magic at all. Another 'Sans', then. Probably the one Papyrus had had mentioned with decent LV ('Red', if he recalled correctly -- fitting name for an untrained, rabid animal).

Sans pulled out his phone, removing two evidence bags. He then swept the two piles of dust up, sealing them with proper labels, and put them in his inventory again to be dealt with later. Her majesty was going to be furious. It wasn't going to look good for him when he 'couldn't find the culprit' either. As he marched back, Sans went over his list of possible scape goats. One of the Floweys might work; they were largely benign, but occasionally one of them would snap. Their short attention spans and memories meant they probably wouldn't have an alibi either. He could use Jerry, of course, but Jerry would annoy the hell out of everyone, and likely have tacky video or photo evidence of where he was (not that anyone would care, the whole town would condemn him for a dog treat and it would be their word against his).

Papyrus had gone back to the dump. That probably meant the maggots he was stuck with were in his house. Sans decided to check in on them, to make certain they weren't getting into mischief. They had done enough damage as it was.

Upon returning to the house, Sans found it empty save for a lone figure on the sofa. It was the one that was dressed like a hooker, the one with his false ribs on display in a crop top depicting a human SOUL. Sans leered, CHECKing the monster, and found himself unimpressed.

"See something you like, pal?" A voice that was and was not like his own spoke. The other monster sat up, lecherous grin spreading.

"HARDLY," Sans answered, crossing his arms. "WHERE ARE THE REST OF YOU??"

The other skeleton looked around. "Probably at the dump, scavenging. Its why we came, after all." He snickered, as if to a joke that hadn't been told.

Sans mulled this over. "IF THE MUTT TOOK EVERYONE ELSE ALONG, WHY WERE YOU LEFT BEHIND?"

The other skeleton snapped his eyes onto Sans. Looking into those white eyelights that glowed lavender, every instinct inside Sans screamed that he needed to beware. "Probably because I wore my little self out putting Slim back together."

Sans raised a bone brow. "Slim?"

"Your brother, sweetie."

Sans ground his teeth. He knew he hadn't done nearly enough hurt Papyrus beyond what he could take. He knows that. Papyrus always tells him when he's gone too far, either with his voice or with his expression. The bastard knew better than to keep that kind of thing to himself. Sans had been upset, and he had gone a bit too far, but he had amended that. Which means either the FreExp is lying, exaggerating, or thinks his brother more fragile than he really is.

All of those options annoy him. Especially the last one.

"THEN YOU ARE EVEN MORE USELESS THAN YOUR STATS INDICATE," Sans said dismissively, waving a claw as though to banish the thought. He felt the steady pulse of the signal to his SOUL that meant his brother's vitals were normal. That hadn't changed since he once again felt it upon his brother's return. He wouldn't fall for that kind of half-baked scare tactic. He headed for the second floor, for his room. He still had to log the deaths in the books.

The other skeleton was suddenly right in front of him, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his purple vest. "Maybe~" he purred, too sweet and too inviting. "Or maybe my value is elsewhere~"

"OUT OF MY WAY," Sans ordered, arms crossed. He could probably just walk around him, but that wasn't the issue: the issue was that the other monster had the balls to get in his way in the first place. That wasn't how things worked around here. He was the Malevolent Sans, Captain of the Royal Guard, hear his name and tremble. You did not get in his way (especially not literally) without consequences.

However, if his brother was right, then this guy was as new as new could get around here; and one of the privileges of being the best in town was being able to exercise MERCY, at least enough to give out a warning.

The other monster slunk closer, his movement fluid and graceful. "And what if I don't?"

"THEN I WILL ADD YOUR PITIFUL VALUE TO MY EXP," Sans answered automatically.

"You think you can?" The other skeleton's voice was lower, softer, a hushed whisper. His eyelights were shimmering amethyst, the left brighter and more akin to a flame. Though he met that gaze unflinching, a shiver ran down Sans' spine.

"I AM MORE THAN PREPARED FOR ANYTHING A WEAKLING LIKE YOU COULD HOPE TO THROW AT ME," Sans snapped, his irritation at himself and at this interloper making his voice cut like ice.

His counterpart remained unfazed, however, leaning forward, fearlessly, to look Sans dead in the eye. "Anything~? Do you mind if I test that~?"

Another shiver ran through Sans, his magic prickling on the back of his neck. _How did someone with so little LV manage to make him feel like prey?_

_And why was it so... exhilarating?_

"I DARE YOU."

The other monster grinned wider. "Okay~"

Sans barely felt the prick of foreign magic slide against his neck before it was too late; he felt something important, something vital, severed, and suddenly it were as though his SOUL could not reach his body (at least from the neck down). His legs gave out, and he crumpled to the floor with a startled yelp.

The other skeleton stood over him, unmoving, his bright, smug eyelights never leaving his own.

"WHAT DID YOU-?!" Panic started to claw at the fringes of Sans' mind. He tried to bring his magic to bear against this trojan horse, but it eluded him, as though there were something in the way. He snarled, glaring defiantly up at the monster that had managed to trick him.

What Sans couldn't understand was how the fucker had made an attack without generating any malicious intent.

The other straddled Sans' now helpless body, rolling his neck. "Not bad for a useless maggot, huh, sweetie? Now... what say you and I have a **f u n t i m e**." He leaned forward, licking his teeth as he traced a finger over one of the scars on Sans' skull, following it down over his eye socket towards his teeth.

Sans had a feeling the word 'fun' as he used it was subjective.

He tilted his head to try and bite at the hand, growling. "DO NOT THINK I WILL GO DOWN SO EASILY, MAGGOT!"

The other yanked his fingers just out of reach, chuckling low. He started walking his fingers along the lumbar vertebrae not protected by Sans' armor, his left eye pulsing brighter with that entrancing lavender. "C'mon, I thought you said you were ready for anything?" The velvet of his voice began to strain under something Sans knew all too well: righteous fury. "You like it rough? I get the feeling you like it rough..."

This was quickly getting out of hand. Sans knew he needed to regain control of the situation, or he was going to find out what this guy considered 'fun'. He ignored the part of him that wanted to know. "REMOVE YOUR FILTHY HANDS FROM ME THIS INSTANT! WHEN I GET UP FROM-"

The other monster gripped Sans' spine. Sans had to snap his mouth shut to keep from making an undignified noise. He felt those burning fingers slide upward inch by inch. He felt the other dig his thumb into the space between Sans' thoracic and lumbar vertebrae. He felt how the touch was both achingly gentle and alarmingly precise. "Then perhaps I should make it so you _can't_ get up..." That voice, like poisoned honey, hissed at him. Sans could not pull his gaze away from those hypnotic eyelights, those which bore into him with the same golden judgement his own brother possessed, the same sense of knowing that always made his head real.

"Don't dish out what you can't take, handsome..." Whispered the monster who was more than he seemed. "People might get the wrong idea..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ i love how Razz's first thought when he finds the dogs dead is 'how fucking dare' because while he might not have been emotionally attached, they were still his men and he is a good captain fuck you
> 
> ~ i love how his second thought is 'now how to make this look like its not my fault or my brothers fault without sacrificing the stupid asshole that did it because we still need him probably'
> 
> ~ razz trained himself to watch for malicious intent. so when he's attacked he can respond in nanoseconds. lust didn't use any when he made his strike so razz was caught completely off guard.
> 
> ~ razz might have a thing for adrenaline


	9. Red VS Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight between Edge and Red over going to the Afterparty.  
> Only there is more to it. On both sides.
> 
> This takes place starting in [Chapter 46 (Afterparty pt.3)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10828317/chapters/33659994), and ends in [Chapter 50 (Afterparty pt.7)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10828317/chapters/34062965)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edge's perspective!!  
> The second part is written in Edge's perspective!!!
> 
> We get to see some of his inner thoughts and feelings and how upset he is!!!

Red shortcut to the Lab in his basement, kicking over a pile of boxes in his haste to get to the ones near the back wall. The once sparse room had become rather cluttered in the last few hours, a sign that he had actually put some effort into his work. The amplifier he had spent so long building sat triumphantly on the desk, lights blinking and processor whirring quietly.

But Red was not here to bask in his achievement.

He was here on business. Big Brother Business.

Red went straight for the boxes near the back wall, a collection of miscellaneous junk he had found while scavenging that he figured would come in handy one day. He knew he picked up a few things that would be useful for this next, important mission.

After a bit of digging, yanking things out and uncaringly tossing them over his shoulder to be dealt with later (or never), Red tugged out a large burlap sack with a triumphant laugh. He stuffed the sack into his dimension box on his phone, then shortcut to The Lab.

Red then darted from blind spot to blind spot, making his way to the storage room where he knew Alphys kept spare magic suppression units. In there, he stole a pair of cuffs, a model made with arresting powerful, dangerous, and uncooperative monsters in mind, which had a quick, smooth locking mechanism. He checked the mechanism, making sure he still remembered how to use them. It was funny how muscle memory worked when you didn't have any muscles, not that Red was complaining. He stuffed them into his pocket, then snagged one of the big nets off the wall, the kind that came with a fun little feature that would give his brother a shocking experience.

Red hated the lizard, but he had to admit that she made some really useful toys. And for once, he was going to put them to good use.

He was going to use them to save his brother. To save Papyrus. To save Edge.

_Whether he liked it or not._

Red checked his phone for the time, then shortcut to Snowdin. Knowing Edge, he would be checking on his traps right about now.

* * *

Papyrus scowled down at his electricity maze. It was perfect (or as perfect as he could get, it in these conditions, with these materials). The mechanism was operational, the voltage was high, the sensors were functioning. Usually, seeing this would put him in a good mood. But not today. Not after a phonecall like that.

Not after seeing his brother naked.

Seriously, what the fuck?! Who calls their boss while they're fucking naked in bed with some 5G hooker?!

Sans, apparently.

And _then_ , _then_ Sans had the balls to demand they both move to some other universe?! Abandon their responsibilities?!

How could he abandon Undyne?! Undyne, who had been the difference between life and death too many times to count? Who had proven her loyalty time and again?! The one monster he could trust, who let him steal those precious, fleeting moments to pretend the world wasn't KILL or BE KILLED, and that it was okay to have HOPE? To have COMPASSION?

And what about the weed?! That abomination of nature that had been his confidant, his informant, and an invaluable asset?! The miserable creature that chose time and again to do the right thing, even though he didn't even have a SOUL? The flower that had helped keep him from losing himself to LV over and over again?

And what about that fireball?! He was Sans' ally wasn't he?? Sure, Papyrus wasn't a fan of his food, but he kept his establishment clean, and followed the law, and was a useful informant for his brother. He also made the best damn drinks in the underground, and some days a shot was the only thing that would get Papyrus through the day.

Not that he was a drunk. He couldn't afford to get intoxicated. But the burn was a good pick-me-up.

As was that cheep canned swill, which tasted like how he imagined piss would taste.

Papyrus could seriously use a drink right about now.

Too fucking bad, though. He was on duty. He would have to suck it up and deal, just like he did every day until he got home (or to Undyne's).

Papyrus spun on his heels, turning back to continue his patrol. He would need to cut back through Snowdin and head for Waterfall.

Papyrus hadn't taken more than a few strides when he felt it; Sans. He was here. Papyrus didn't stop walking, pretending like he didn't know his brother was hiding somewhere in the trees to his right. He didn't let it show how unnerving it was that the _only reason_ he knew Sans was there was because of the collar; Sans was completely hidden. There was no sign, no trace, no shred of intent to go off of. Papyrus had hunted down rogue ghost monsters that gave off more of a presence than Sans was right now.

If it had been anyone else, Sans probably could have dusted them and gone back home without leaving a trace.

Papyrus couldn't help the way his mind connected that fact to the many cases of monster dustings that had no known perpetrator. So many bags of dust sat in storage without anyone to claim them, some of them without names. Even if he hadn't suspected Sans before, he did now.

The worst part was when the signal from the collar just blinked from one spot to another, like it teleported. Like Sans had teleported. Papyrus had never noticed it before, how eerie and unsettling that was. Then again, he didn't tune in to where Sans was at every moment of the day. The bond wasn't particularly strong, so he had to focus to feel him out over large distances, and Papyrus just didn't have the luxury of doing that at all times.

He was the captain. He was too busy.

He realized that Sans had been using that to his advantage, to keep his fucking shortcuts a secret.

Bastard.

Papyrus bit back an irritated growl. He didn't have time to play games. He had work to do.

He barely had any warning before hearing, feeling, the faint presence of BLUE magic. Papyrus dodged on reflex alone, the cold burn of the spell grazing dangerously close along his side before dissipating harmlessly in the frigid air. It had been so long since Sans had tried throwing BLUE at him, he had almost forgotten what it was like from the other end, what signs to look out for.

"FUCK OFF, SANS!!" Papyrus snarled, continuing on his patrol without missing a beat.

Papyrus barely caught the way Sans' presence jumped to a new location, barely caught the next assault of BLUE. He dodged again, flipping the bird in Sans' general direction. "I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TRYING TO DO, ASSHOLE!! IF I WEREN'T SO BUSY I WOULD BEAT YOU WITHIN AN INCH OF DUSTING FOR THINKING OF IT, AND FINISH YOU OFF FOR TRYING!!"

Papyrus pretended it wasn't creepy how silence was his only answer. He kept walking. He made sure to take his sweet time, checking every puzzle and trap along the way, inspecting each of the other guards. He dodged and deflected everything Sans threw at him, making it abundantly clear how much fucking trouble he was in when Papyrus got a hold of him.

None of the canine unit even noticed Sans was there until Papyrus pointed it out. They couldn't locate him. He even tried having the Dogi hunt for him, but they got nothing. And still, _still,_ Sans kept trying to get him.

_In front of his fucking unit._

That disrespectful, ignorant jackass. He would _pay_.

The attempts at catching him with BLUE magic lasted until they reached town. Snarling irritably, Papyrus made his way across the town plaza, passing the shops and many residence who were loitering outside. Some of them looked up at his tall visage with anger, or hatred. Other looked up at him with healthy fear.

Papyrus would admit only to himself (and maybe Flowey, if he were drunk, which he never is) that the favorite looks he got were from the smaller ones, from Monster Kid and a few of the rabbits; the looks of awe and respect.

Papyrus passed his house, scowling at it, knowing what had gone on in there not twenty minutes ago. He stomped his way into the mist between the Snowdin and Waterfall provinces.

Then something fell on him.

The next thing Papyrus knew, he was being assaulted by terrible, full body waves of pain. His legs gave out, and he sank to the snow, biting back a scream. He fought to regain control, to even figure out what had hit him. It took him a moment to recognize the _kind_ of pain he was in, that he was being electrocuted.

_An electric net._

_That rat bastard actually got a net to capture him with!_

"SANS YOU ARE A FUCKING DEAD MAN!!" Papyrus snarled, clawing at the snow as he tried to stand up. His limbs weren't responding to his commands well. He tried to focus, to figure out where his brother actually was, but the electricity was messing with his magic. His vision was faded and blurry, and the dense fog didn't help either.

The electricity ran out, and Papyrus felt his body go limp. He panted, blinking away the curtains of darkness that clouded his vision.

"I gotcha, boss," Sans rumbled, sounding pleased with himself. Papyrus felt the net ripped off him, then his arm yanked behind his back. He felt something click around one wrist, then the other.

Papyrus kicked out, aiming for the presence he could just feel behind him and to one side. He felt his foot connect solidly, heard Sans grunt and growl. Papyrus rolled to his feet, trying to tug the cuffs off. He growled himself when he found they were the kind made by that lizard skank, that suppressed magic.

"YOU PRICK!!" Papyrus snarled, roundhouse kicking at his brother, right where his head should have been. He didn't feel himself make contact, but he also didn't feel Sans retreat properly either. _Damn him and his sudden agility._

_Fucker never tried to dodge before._

Fucker never tried at _anything_ in years.

Papyrus thought quickly. In the mist, with his magic suppressed and his arms bound, he had severely limited options. He was vulnerable, something he could not afford to be. And to make matters worse, he has been betrayed by his brother.

Papyrus hated to admit it, but it looked like he would need... assistance. He spun on his heels and bolted, heading for Waterfall. Heading for Undyne.

"Oh no, ya don't," Sans growled, tossing out another attempt at BLUE magic. Papyrus dodged, jumping over the rushing river with its many falling rocks. He dove into the tall grass, dodging another attempt. When he darted out the other side, he nearly ran into Sans, who reached to grab him physically.

Papyrus knew if he was caught physically, Sans could probably drag him though one of those shortcuts. He couldn't afford to let that happen. Papyrus vaulted over Sans' head, spinning to keep just out of reach. He hit the ground running on the other side. Papyrus couldn't help snickering at the sound of his brother's irritable cursing behind him.

As if the Great and Terrible Papyrus would be thwarted by Sans the fucking Skeleton so easily.

Papyrus heard the whistle of a flying projectile. He jumped to one side just in time to avoid two bone constructs which would have taken out his kneecaps from behind. He had to dodge another attempt at BLUE magic as well.

He was starting to sweat now. This is more of a workout than he's had from anyone besides Undyne in years. Papyrus considered maybe training without his magic, if it was going to make him feel this kind of burn.

After he taught his asshole brother a lesson he would _not. soon. forget._

Papyrus vaulted over the pond, avoiding more bone projectiles in the process. There was an Aaron up ahead. Papyrus saw the look on his face, expression flipping through shock to excitement at the opportunity this presented him. Papyrus knew how this must look to him; the captain of the royal guard, running from some unseen threat, helpless and vulnerable. He would be a fool to pass up this chance.

The Aaron cracked his knuckles, flexing his muscles in preparation for an anticipated encounter.

Papyrus spun on one foot, using his momentum to put more physical force behind a back kick, which hit the Aaron square in the midrif. The seahorse monster's punch stopped halfway, his face frozen in shock right before he crumbled to dust all over Papyrus' boots. Papyrus might have taken a moment to contemplate the life he had just taken, to meditate on the EXP he had gained, but he couldn't stop. Sans hadn't stopped. Papyrus dodged another attempt at capture, kicking up more of the Aaron's dust, before he could cross the small bridge and round the corner.

Papyrus leapt over the last pond and ran into the Wishing Room.

Inside, lit by the thoughtful crimson glow of the red Echo Flowers, bloomed a single golden flower. Flowey gazing longingly up at the gems which were too far overhead to be stolen, the only stars anyone underground could ever see. The sentient flower turned in surprise at the noisy entrance Papyrus made, bristling at the state his friend was in.

"Papyrus?! Whats going on?! What-"

Papyrus, distracted by seeing Flowey, his mind briefly stilled by the new information as he changed his plan, was tackled to the ground. Sans pinned his younger brother beneath him. Papyrus snarled, trying to get the leverage to roll him off. They both ended up rolling around in the dirt, crushing the red echo flowers in their wake. Flowey had to duck out of the way to keep from being crushed himself. He popped back up in the far corner, out of the way of the fight, shaking like a (literal) leaf.

Sans took the full upper hand, using his close proximity to finally catch hold of his brother's SOUL in BLUE magic. Papyrus howled in outrage, still kicking and snarling.

They were both filthy, covered in sweat, and out of breath. Sans grinned victoriously, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. "Didja really ferget who th' big brother is here, boss? Didja ferget who it was what taught ya magic in th' first place?" He pulled out a large burlap sack from his phone's dimension box. "Thought yer mem'ry was better 'n that."

"GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME YOU SON OF A BITCH!!" Papyrus snapped.

"Shouldn't talk 'bout yer mom like that, bro," Sans quipped.

Papyrus felt the strength of the BLUE on his SOUL increase, raising him up just enough for Sans to slide the bag over his head, and stuff him completely inside. Papyrus continued to kick and struggle, and he managed to land a few hits, but it wasn't enough.

Soon Papyrus was completely stuffed in the back. He felt the bag lifted up and swung. Sans had thrown it over his shoulder for better leverage.

"Now shut th' fuck up an' hold on. We're movin', an' we ain't never comin' back!"

"NO!!" Papyrus howled. "RELEASE ME RIGHT FUCKING NOW YOU-"

Papyrus heard Sans yelp in surprise, just as he heard Flowey shout, "Let him-"

Then Papyrus felt the world shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ there are so many things i wanna comment about this; from red's violent enthusiasm and guerilla warfare tactics, to edge's apparent secret alcoholism; to how flowey was just minding his own business brooding and then saw his bestie being kidnapped and THREW HIMSELF INTO RED'S FACE LIKE "BITCH GET THE FUCK OFF PAPYRUS" even though he was clearly terrified of red


	10. The Musings of Mettaton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short look at things from Underlust!Mettaton's PoV, from the end of [Chapter 52](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10828317/chapters/34489836)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is super short but it covered a lot of feelings i think?
> 
> Its written from Underlust MTT's perspective, so Pink (UL!Papyrus) is just Papyrus to him. and Mettaton doesnt have everyone's nicknames memorized so they don't all get used all the time

Mettaton was legitimately terrified.

Yes, the surface was beautiful. Yes Geno and Paci were perfectly lovely people, as was that cute little goat Asriel. But...

Mettaton was coming to understand that not everything was as it seemed.

First, and the most alarming in its own way, was just how absolutely horrifying Sans could be. Not just any Sans in particular, but _his_ Sans. His boyfriend Papyrus' brother. Could be scary. The kind of scary that makes your soul freeze and your body lock up, like you know you are being pinned down by the eyes of a predator you had noticed too late. Mettaton had only ever seen the flirtatious and lazy sides of Sans. He had never seen the dangerous side. And honestly, he hoped he never would again.

Then, of course, there were the others. The denizens from the other alternate realities. Mettaton could see that some of them were wonderful, vibrant people with interesting personalities and stories. However, there were others he wished he hadn't come to know or see. Those broken, hungry brothers, for example. There was a madness in them, brought about through no real fault of their own. They were neglected, and starved, and hurt. The unfairness of it all made his SOUL ache. And yet, he also knew they were dangerous.

Then there were those strange brothers who kept watching Papyrus. Slim? And Razz? The Papyri variant called his brother 'mlord', and wasn't that creepy just by itself? But then there were the appraising, hungry looks that the Sansi type kept shooting _his_ boyfriend, like Mettaton and Papyrus both hadn't made it abundantly clear they were an item! (Okay, maybe Papyrus was still a volunteer Royal Harem member in training, but he certainly wasn't at work right now!) Mettaton didn't much like it. Especially since those two were clearly dangerous. Killers.

And Sans didn't seem the least bit concerned.

And, as if that weren't enough, then there were the even darker brothers. Sans seemed to have made some kind of connection with that Sansi variant (Red, was it? Mettaton was certain he heard him call him Red), and it was admittedly adorable once Sans had a handle on him, but the other one...

The other one, the Papyri type, had used BLUE magic on SIXTEEN people, and he'd put enough pressure behind it to nearly overload Mettaton's gauges!! The robot had honestly feared his chassis would collapse under its own weight. When all he had felt was the slight pressure in his hips before being released, he had counted himself lucky.

But Papyrus was observant. Too observant at times, even for Mettaton. After seeing the alternate versions of him, Mettaton wondered just how much he really knew of his boyfriend. Was Papyrus hiding something from him? A keen intellect? A vicious streak? Some dangerous, unfathomable power?

Mettaton was brought out of his ruminations (read: paranoia) by the gentle clack of teeth to his cheek. "It's okay, babe," Papyrus purred, almost like he knew what Mettaton had been thinking. _Maybe he does,_ for all he knew. "It's okay, and it'll be okay."

Mettaton relaxed, leaning further into the skeleton at his side. He really did fret over nothing sometimes, didn't he? Papyrus was the best, always looking out for him and his needs and wants, never asking for much of anything in return. And _his_ Papyrus was not like any other. _His_ Papyrus was _his_ , and unique, and loved him. Mettaton should remember that, hold onto that.

And by fucking starts, he should _enjoy_ it more. Not everyone was luck enough to have The Great Papyrus. Even in the multiverse, Mettaton had gotten quite lucky.

The three of them were just outside the back door, and Alphys was leading the way to her house, when that other papyri type (Stretch? the one in the tacky orange hoodie) appeared, holding onto a variant of Undyne that had been through quite a bit in her life. The fish monster's fins were riddled with holes and tears, and there were places where her scales had been scrapped off and had yet to grow back, along with scars beyond that of her missing eye.

The Undyne (Vengeance?) hissed at the sudden bright light, clutching at her one good eye. "Son of a-!" She summoned a spear in her other hand, holding it poised and at the ready, like she expected to get jumped. Mettaton supposed that might have been exactly what she expected. Stretch let go of her, holding his hands up in the universal (multiversal?) sign of pacifism. Vengeance held her stance until her vision cleared, and she looked up.

Only to lock onto Pink as though she could see nothing else. "What the hell?!"

Mettaton stared. She was looking Papyrus up and down like- like- like she _liked what she saw_. Mettaton swallowed. He was not used to this. Nobody back home gave Papyrus this much attention. At least, they didn't when Mettaton was there. Then again, usually it was Mettaton getting the looks.

Mettaton didn't know how to feel about this.

Papyrus, however, did. He smirked. "See something you like~?" The skeleton asked, running his free hand over the smooth planes of his ectobody, the shimmering pink pseudoskin of his midriff matching exquisitely with his slender ivory phalanges. Mettaton marveled again at how well his boyfriend pulled off his chosen aesthetic, with such grace and ease.

"Uh..." Clearly this wasn't what the fish was expecting.

Papyrus snickered. Mettaton couldn't help but quirk a smile. His Pappy sure liked to tease. And he knew Papyrus was teasing. When Papyrus was serious... well, lets just say it was hard to tell him no.

Alphys was staring blatantly at Vengeance, mouth open and eyes wide. "W-what happened?!" She asked, although her voice didn't convey any alarm.

Vengeance snapped her head to one side, locking onto Alphys. "Stay the HELL away from me!" She snapped, pointing her spear at Alphys. Alphys squeaked in alarm, expression flashing to something related to betrayal.

Pink moved from Mettaton's side, stepping between Alphys and Vengeance and taking hold of the spear to redirect it to the side again. "NOW NOW! WE CAN TALK TO EACH OVER AND EXPRESS OUR WANTS AND NEEDS WITHOUT VIOLENCE!! BESIDES..." He leaned closer to Vengeance, his sockets drifting to half mast, his gaze smoldering and his voice churring in that way that always had Mettaton's thoughts fading to a pleasant white static. "...If you really need to expend some energy, I can think of a few things we could do together instead~"

Vengeance flushed a brilliant pink color of her own, her fins flaring on each side of her face as her body went both rigid and lax. Papyrus gently pulled the spear from her hand and tossed it into the grass, where it vanished.

"THERE!! NOW WHY DON'T YOU GO INTRODUCE YOURSELF TO THE OTHERS? THE PARTY IS INSIDE!!" Papyrus looked at Stretch and winked, making Stretch blush faintly himself. Then Papyrus returned to Mettaton's side, wrapping one supportive arm securely back around his waist. "NOW, DR ALPHYS?? WOULD YOU LEAD THE WAY??"

Alphys wiped a bit of moisture from her mouth. "Y-yes! O-of course! Th-th-this way!" She stumbled over her own feet for a few steps, then continued heading for her home.

Papyrus sent one last smile to Vengeance and Stretch, before he started again helping Mettaton along.

Mettaton relaxed in his boyfriend's arms.

He was right. Papyrus was dangerous. Dangerous, and manipulative, and incredibly perceptive.

But he was also the sweetest monster to ever exist, and Mettaton never felt safer than he did in Papyrus' arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ mettaton is a lot more nervous and scared than he lets himself show
> 
> ~ god i love this pairing so much. you just know alphys is peaking over her shoulder and low key squealing in delight because they are so goddamn cute
> 
> ~ pffft vengeance is like "omg he's hot" even though she KNOWS its not edge
> 
> ~ alphys is like "omg she's hot" even though she knows its not her girlfriend
> 
> ~ pink stepping in since he can see stretch has no idea wtf to do about this
> 
> ~ mettaton loves his bony boyfriend so much and thinks he's so awesome because lets be honest Pink is the fucking best he did so much for mettaton and helped the robot through a lot of shit and he is a sweet boi
> 
> ~ viva UL!papyton


End file.
